


may a bullet find me

by Cicadaemon



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicadaemon/pseuds/Cicadaemon
Summary: Despite himself, Javier finds he is falling just a little bit for Molly O'Shea. And with it, the one thing he had always prided himself on, his loyalty, is left to be questioned. All the while, Molly is hiding a secret, one that will demand where her own loyalties lie.
Relationships: Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella/Molly O'Shea, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I have to say this but if you do not like gay/lesbian/bisexual ships, do not read this. This fic, even though it is tagged as a f/m fic, does and will feature a multitude of queer characters. The main pairing is not heterosexual. I really can't believe I have to put this disclaimer in the cursed year of our lord 2020.

He ticked off 'never having to deal with snow again' on his mental list of why he wanted to go back to México. And with every minute he spent on that godforsaken mountain, it got higher and higher on the list. When they had spent the last winter in the Grizzlies, as they had made their way down to Blackwater, it had been freezing cold and Javier had cursed Dutch every time he had been sent out on guard duty, but it hadn’t been like this. A blizzard so strong he could barely see past his horse’s head. The wind cut like razors past every layer he wore and he constantly had to flex his fingers to bring feeling back into them.  
  
It had been the longest three days of his life. They came close in comparison to the first days he had spent in America after fleeing. Just pure hell. He was in a constant state of adrenaline-filled paranoia that had finally faded the more exhausted he got. And exhausted he was. He hadn’t slept since they had left Blackwater those three days prior. 

He had been reassured over and over again that there had been no way that the Pinkertons and bounty hunters could have followed behind them, and if they had they couldn't track them in this weather. But it hadn’t been the fear of being followed that set him on edge and made sleep hard. Every time he closed his eyes he could the woman on the ferry again. Her crying and then scream as Dutch blasted her brains across the wall. Or the way she had dropped to the floor like a sack of wet sand, the remnants of her face too horrid to describe. All that had really been left had been a single eye, dangling out of what was once an eye socket by a single piece of meat. What had horrified him the most was that there was no reason for her death, other than that Dutch could.

Javier had been more than sure he was going to die on that boat, as the bullets started to whiz by his head. He had made a small prayer in a short breath, thinking he was to be reunited with his mother if God was merciful enough to look past his abundance of sins. But back-up came and they were able to get off that boat. With each step, they survived a little more. And some more. And then some more.

Which led him here. Frozen and tired on a winding trek through a storm plagued mountain range. Somehow still surviving.

They pushed harder, the snow coming in stronger now, and Javier found himself daydreaming in that weird state between sleep and reality. He had liked the spot they had set up right on the river. And right across the San Luis was México. The closest he had been home in years. And for a moment he’s back there in the sun, watching the boats travel along the river. He had made up stories for where each boat was going, each more ridiculous than the last. It had been a game he had played with the kids he had grown up with.

A warm hand had touched him then, right on his shoulder. He had whirled around to be greeted by a beautiful sight. Her hair burns like fire in the sunlight and he suddenly understood the awe to which the Blessed Mary must have felt upon laying her eyes on Gabriel. He half expected Molly to tell him to be not afraid to drive home further that he was in the presence of an angel.

Instead, she had asked him if he could accompany her into Blackwater.

It was then a cold hand punches him in the shoulder, waking him up from his daydream. Or rather sleep, he realizes, as he bolts up in his saddle. He looked over to the person who had punched him and sees Lenny, concern written across his face.

“You were about to fall out of your saddle.” He yelled, the wind and snow mutffling his voice. “We’ll break soon.”

“Hopefully.” He yells back, his voice cracking. Considering the pace they’ve been going at, he wasn’t sure at all.

After a bit longer, he was called up to the front. Boaz snorted and wheezed as Javier leads him through the caravan up to Dutch and Hosea, both of them looking worse for wear. He wasn’t sure what to expect but isn’t surprised when he’s asked to take patrol.

“I already sent John and Micah out scouting ahead. I need you to fall back and see if we’ve been followed. Arthur says there’s an old mining camp up ahead. You’ll meet us there when you're done.” 

He nodded, though exhausted and preferring he’d rest now, he had no qualms riding off for some time. “Of course. Anything else?”

Dutch shook his head, and Javier really can't help but notice how drained the man looks. “Rest up and stay strong. That’s all I want from you once I know we’re safe.”

He said nothing more, turning Boaz around and travelling past the wagons. He took only a short moment to look into one of the wagons, the last one. It was driven by Charles despite his burnt hand and in the back Miss Grimshaw and Molly. He tips his hat to them quickly. “How are you holding up?”

“Freezing, Mister Escuella.” Miss Grimshaw calls out. “But alive.”

He smiles at that before his eyes wander over to Molly. Her red hair is no longer on fire but looks nearly black. And she looks miserable. He wished he could comfort her some way, tell her everything would be alright. But there’s nothing he can say except what he knows.

“Arthur apparently came back and found a place to rest. You’ll be there soon. Get warm.”

The duo perks up at that. Grimshaw calls over to Charles, relaying the news and it gives him a brief window to smile at Molly. Who returns it weakly.

“Dutch wants me off scouting. Be sure to save some space by the fire for me.” He tells her.

“Of course.”

And with that, he then properly makes his way off into the night.

-

There is nothing behind them, not even the howl of a wolf. But Javier takes his time and is thorough in his search. And he falls back into daydreams once more. And he’s back in the camp in Blackwater, with Molly’s hand on his shoulder.

“Dutch is off and no one else will take me.” She had lamented, which he had barely heard over the thundering of his heart. And the confusion that fogged his mind. “I need an escort.”

“Why?” He winched; he really could have asked that better than a one-word question. Her mouth had hardened at that, obviously not impressed by the tone.

“I’ll ask someone else.”

He had jumped up then, nearly dropping his guitar. “No, I’ll take you!”

She hadn’t wanted to take a horse into town and instead, they had walked. Some excuse on how Dutch never wanted to go walking with her anymore and how she enjoyed taking in the scenery. But really he couldn't pay any attention to the landscape, but instead found himself trapped in his own thoughts.

And once again in the present moment, freezing and stiff, Javier’s heart is thundering away thinking about it all. It had been his first time into town and he had enjoyed every moment. Molly had been going on about a new knitting project and how the town actually had a tailor’s. He had enjoyed watching her in that shop, talking with the owner’s wife about the logistics of her project that he had no way of actually understanding. But she had been happy and smiling. 

He knew what it was that he felt. He had never been privy to daydreaming or anything like that. Not since then and Javier had thought he had learned his lesson. But apparently not.

After what feels like hours, but according to his little pocket watch was actually only over an hour, he makes his way back along the trail. The snow had nearly wiped out any sign that the caravan has been through, which he notes with relief. If by some chance someone was out looking for them, within a few hours there will be nothing to go on. He finds the camp with no problem. It’s not an easy trek for poor Boaz, which makes getting there longer than he would have liked. But he makes it.

There was someone on guard, right outside one of the little houses. As he gets closer, he is able to recognize him as Lenny. The poor kid was huddled into his coat as much as possible and he can empathize deeply with him. Though Javier was starting to get to a point where he was so frozen he was feeling warm.

“Any intruders?” He calls out, startling the kid. Lenny half points his rifle at Javier, till he realizes who it is.

“None so far,” Lenny assures. He’s half leaned against the wall, exhausted. “Davey’s gone and we got him buried. Dutch and Arthur went out looking for food and what not and came back with Micah and some woman. Apparently, there’s a gang up in these parts.”

“A gang? A shame they didn’t take out Micah.” He tries to joke. “Did Dutch say who they were?”

“O’Driscolls but I’ve never encountered them in the time I’ve been you with guys. Everyone seemed upset about it.”

Javier hisses at the name. Four years he had ridden with as a Van der Linde boy and he had more than enough hatred for the rival gang. “They’re worse than the _banditos_ you get where I’m from. I hope they killed every bastard.”

“By the sounds of it, they did. Everyone is all resting now, Dutch is holed up in that building over there-” Lenny points to the house in particular as he says it “-if you have to say anything to him.”

He nods and thanks Lenny, “I’ll bother Dutch a bit then head off. Keep a sharp eye, okay?”

Making his way over to the cabin, he can really now start to feel how exhausted he is. Every muscle in his legs ache and his lower back is near on fire from pain, but he drags his feet through the snow nonetheless. He knocks on the door and is greeted quickly by Molly O’Shea. 

“Is Dutch awake?” He asks. Molly nods. “Can I talk to him then?”

“He’s exhausted Mister Escuella.” Despite this, she opens the door more for him, letting Javier in.

“We all are, Miss O’Shea.” She has nothing to say to that. Stepping in, he is immediately hit by the warmth of the fire burning away. His body aches at the feeling, and he is almost ready to collapse. He stays upright though at the sight of Hosea, sitting by the fire.

“Is Dutch-” He tries asking again, but is interrupted by Dutch himself, coming out of the adjoining room.

“I am awake.” He is in a state of undress, looking as though he was getting ready for bed. Javier offers a small apology, but it is waved off. “Did you find anything out there?”

He shakes his head. “Not a single thing. I was out there for what? An hour? The caravan’s tracks were nearly all wiped out by the snow on my way back. If it keeps, there’ll be nothing for them to find.”

Dutch’s shoulders sag in relief. “I’m sure the snow will keep up. We need to lay low and wait for a thaw. And we will be fine. Did you see John out there?”

He shook his head, before looking around the room. Hosea quickly picked up on why he was looking. “Arthur’s already passed out. You should have seen him, he dropped like bricks onto the cot in there without even taking off his boots. Like an oversized toddler.”

“I can sympathize,” Javier said, feeling his exhaustion once more. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

“Absolutely not. You go and get some rest. Tell young Lenny out there to do the same.” Dutch gave a yawn. “I think we all need to sleep now.”

He gave one last nod, and a good night to them, eyes lingering on Molly for a second, before making his way back out into the cold. He relays the command to Lenny, who seems almost exuberant at the prospect of sleep. They settle into the house, and he is met with disgust at the sounds of Bill snoring. Space was obviously saved for him, which he settles into with scarcely a thought. Kicking off his boots, he settles down on the makeshift bed, but not before he takes his poncho off to use as a blanket.

He falls asleep quickly, his dreams a mixture of the horror he had seen on that ferry and the warm day he had spent with Molly. But eventually, they fade away and he dreams of nothing.

-

“You know the next time we try to rob a train, don’t jump clean over it.” Arthur teased him. “It’s the big metal thing with smoke coming out of it.”

“ _Qué te den_ , Arthur.” Any other time, he would taken it with ease and probably laughed too. But his body was still bruised from the fall. And his pride had taken quite a bit of a beating too.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Arthur still smiled at him, obviously unaware of how deep he had just cut and it made Javier’s blood boil more. “It means go fuck yourself and get lost.”

The smile dropped then and he looked somewhat remorseful. “You know I am just playin’ with you right? Bad luck is all.”

“Yeah and I still mean it when I say get lost.” He was in too sour of a mood to reconcile and was grateful when Arthur finally took the message. He gave him one quick dip of the hat and made a comment about going out for drinks when he was more ‘sociable’.

They had been set up in the new camp, Horseshoe Overlook, for only a few days. The mood was still fragile and Dutch still looked like he wasn’t getting a lot of sleep. And not long after they had settled, Jack had come down with one nasty cold. With John still out of commission, Abigail seemed stretched thin. There was bottomless sympathy for her, though Javier kept his distance at the fear that the old joke about him being a candidate for Jack’s father would come up again. 

He tried to summon away his foul mood with a song or two on his guitar, but even with the magnificent view before him, he couldn’t. His mind was still stuck in Blackwater. With all their money. All his money.

He found himself again since the botched ferry job in the endless cycle of “what if”. What if he had done this different or did that better. And before long it extended beyond just Blackwater till it landed him back in México. What if he had kept his temper in check? What if he had been quicker to react? What if he had been smarter? What if he had guarded his heart closer?

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a warm hand touched his shoulder, jolting him out of the depressing thoughts.

“Zoning out? You’ve just been holding it in your hands, not playing.” He looked over his shoulder to see Molly, the soft light from the morning sky not setting the red in hair aflame, but still shining like a halo. She gave him a small smile, which melted his insides immediately. It wasn’t until she had quirked her eyebrows up that he realizes he had just been staring in silence. Clearing his throat, he looked away, feeling his face go red.

“Just thinking about how much money we left behind.” He muttered, not feeling brave enough to look back at her. “What a shame.”

She hummed in agreement. “We can always make more. Like how I have to redo my knitting. We left in such a hurry I had to leave it behind.”

Courage came to him there, knowing exactly what she was going to ask next. He looked back up to her and was still awestruck by the sight of Miss O’Shea. “Is that so?”

She hummed again. “I need someone to come to town with me. And I enjoyed it last time. Would you do it again?”

Javier couldn't keep the smile off his face, the bad mood hanging over him finally gone. “Course.”

Unlike before, Dutch was in the camp which meant Molly had gone over to him to let him know what was going on. He remembered with some fondness as he ready Boaz that Dutch had seemed less than impressed that they had just wandered out of camp without telling anyone. He must have been fine with it as Molly returned wrapped up in her shawl. As she walked up to him, she flashed the little spending money she had between her fingers.

“Look at the big spender here with her fancy American dollar bills,” He called out, earning him a quick dirty look which then moulded into a grin.

“Maybe I’ll be nice and buy you a razor. The one you got now seems to take a bit too much off.” She teased back.

Javier couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest with surprise. Bringing on hand up to touch his moustache, he looked at her with wide eyes. “ _Dios mio_ you got some claws on you. That actually kind of hurt.”

Her smile fell away and flush crept up her face as she seemed horrified. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“I’m joking, I don’t mind. It’s actually kind of fun having you talk back like that.” He bit back a comment about he wouldn’t mind her dirty talking him and how her pretty mouth could never offend him. Even he knew that was taking it a step too far. But her words emboldened him.

Javier had hopped up onto the saddle first, extending one hand out to Molly for her to anchor herself on. It took little effort on his part to pull her up onto the saddle. Despite how her words provoked him before, feeling her warm body close to his back and the soft smell of the perfumes she wore in his nose, Javier felt breathless.

With a deep breath to rally himself, he clicked his tongue and sent them on their way. The one thing that made Boaz his most favourite horse he’d ever own was the smooth gait he had. They were barely tousled about as they made their way through the wood and out onto the dirt path.

“I never got to ask you, but exactly were you making?” He remembered a few times seeing her working away with her needles, though for the life of him Javier couldn't recall what it had looked like. “You never really told me when I took you into Blackwater.”

“Something not easy to do at all. I was making a shawl with some Shetland lace. My nan use to be a wicked knitter, I remember my ma had one. It was given to her by my nan on her wedding day. Lovely white lace. I was shown how to do it and I’m rubbish at it, but I want to try.”

Javier nodded, not really sure what she was saying. Which Molly seemed to pick up on as she teased him once more. “You don’t have to pretend that you understand me. Let me simplify. I’m knitting something that is very hard to do that needs very fine wool. It’s going to take me a while to finish it.”

“I didn’t realize you had a skill like that. Maybe you could put it towards helping the camp?”

Molly snorted. “Sure. And then I’ll go hunting with the boys next and taking down O’Driscolls after that.”

Biting back the comment he really wanted to make about her pigheadedness, but instead went with it. “If we had you riding out with us, the O’Driscolls wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh of course. I’d stab them with my knitting needles and send them on their way,” She said with a laugh. “And the Pinkerton’s too.”

He laughed as well, the image of her with her fine clothes taking on a pack of Pinkertons was more than amusing. “We really could of used you on that ferry.”

“There’s always next time. Bit connected, but have you been alright? You’ve seemed… preoccupied since the whole mess?” As she asked, he could feel Molly lean in closer, enough so he could feel her breath on him.

There was no way he could honestly answer. His burdens would have to be his own. Shrugging, he said, “It’s been a lot these last few weeks. I’m sure once I find a good fishing spot and get my pole in hand I’ll be much better.”

Molly hummed and with that, they stayed quiet for the rest of the ride into Valentine. It wasn’t that much of a ride, even at the steady trot he had Boaz going at. Every so often there’d be some sign of life in the brush, which he could feel Molly shift in the saddle to get a look.

Getting into town, Javier could say that Valentine wasn’t much. He had seen hundreds of towns like this. Small up and coming things with its share of crime and opportunities. These people will be hard workers and trying their damndest to survive. A good town. But one he was familiar with.

It wasn’t hard locating the General Store and he was pleased to see that it was well stocked. He pursued the selection while Molly chatted with the clerk. As the man disappeared to some back room, she had come up right beside him and looked at what had grabbed his attention. 

Taking the little bottle off the shelf, Molly inspected it closely. “Hair tonic? Who believes in shite like this?” She then passed the bottle over to him.

Turning the little bottle over he attempted to read the back. “Cedarwood and lavender? I should give some of this stuff to Bill. If it doesn’t work at least he’d stop smelling like a rotting animal for once.”

Catching each other’s eye, they began to laugh. It was interrupted by the clerk who came back with the yarn Molly had been asking for. She handed him all the cash she had, telling him to keep the change for himself. It must have been a fair bit considering how the man’s eyes widened. The simple generosity made his heart skip a beat.

Stepping out back outside, Molly gave one big sigh. “Well back off to camp then. A nice short trip was what I needed.”

Javier took a quick look around the street. There wasn’t much, which he expected, but next to the General Store was a saloon. Probably not suitable when in the company of such a lovely young woman. He really couldn't care. “You want to grab a drink? Before we head back.”

She looked relieved that he asked. “Of course.”

They had ignored the stares of the men as they had walked in, but he had shot one nasty look to a man who had the audacity to whistle. He had been true to his word and had settled only on one drink. And in that one drink, they had talked about the past few weeks and the things they had left behind in Blackwater. And the conversation has slipped back to what it always had when they talked, books and music. And even as far back to when they had first became friendly.

He could remember with a smile the first day Molly had arrived in camp. Having been on guard duty, he had watched as Miss Grimshaw and Mary-Beth had come back to camp with a young woman in the wagon. He had been told they had caused her a bit of misfortune and as a way to make up for it, she was offered a place in camp. They had just lost a girl who had grown tired of Miss Grimshaw so the extra hand was welcomed.

And Javier, ever sweet on the girls had first made Molly’s acquaintance proper when he had pulled his guitar out for the night and took requests from them.

Drinks, like they were having now, wasn’t unique. Before Molly had fallen with Dutch after he had saved her life, he used to grab two drinks in the evening and sit by her. Something which she remarked on then.

“You know I can’t remember the last time we did this,” Molly said, finishing off the last of her drink. “Talking like this.”

He hummed. “Hard to have drinks when we both are busy. It’s not like we haven't talked.”

“Well, I mean aside from when you brought me to town that one day and then in Colter when you checked in on me, we haven't talked at all.”

The check-in at Colter had been a quick thing. He had been looking for Hosea and had found Molly instead. She had looked cold so he had offered her his poncho knowing full well she’d refuse. Which she had. Though Molly had given him a smile and thanked him kindly. It had been enough to make him blush.

“I suppose I don’t have an excuse then.” He admitted. “Though I’m not sure Dutch would be happy with me chattin’ you up.”

“Well, we will keep this drink between us then,” Molly said in an exaggerated whisper, giving one big wink as she did so. It was enough to make him snort.

They didn’t linger long in the saloon; after Molly had finished her drink they had left with no delay. Especially after Javier took one look at his pocket watch and saw how much time they had spent away.

The ride back to camp proved to be just as uneventful until they neared an area that was more heavily wooded. There was no sign of wildlife in the brush like before. Instead, it was O’Driscolls who came out, guns held high and shouting.

Without even a moment to think about what he was doing, his hand shot to his holster and was aimed at the men. No hesitation or thought as he pulled the trigger as quickly as possible, just instinct. Before Molly could even register what had just happened, three of the men had fallen and the fourth had toppled from his horse.

Javier hopped off Boaz quickly, strutting over to the man that scrambled on both hands to his gun. But he wasn’t fast enough. He kicked it away and stomped hard onto the hand.

“Please,” The O’Driscoll cried out. “Let me live. I-I’ll tell them not to come back. I’ll run away. I’ll-”

No hesitation as he put a bullet in the man’s brain. The body went slack, falling almost comically. Taking one quick look around the area, he saw no reason to keep his gun out, slotting it back in the holster with ease. Javier almost wanted to smile, proud of how easily he had taken care of it. Years of bounty work had really made taking out enemies real easy. But pride faded away and shame washed over him seeing Molly still in the saddle, slack-jawed and pale.

“Are you okay?” He asked, almost unsure if he wanted an answer. She just nodded her head, closing her mouth but a look of disgust on her face still. In an attempt to ease, he tried to joke, “Shame you didn’t have your knitting needles, huh?"

Molly said nothing, looking away from him with eyebrows furrowed. He took no time in saddling back up and rushed Boaz back to camp. He greeted Bill who was on patrol, but other than that nothing was said during the ride. Anxiety ate away in him, not knowing what damage he may have caused.

He helped her off Boaz after he had hitched him up, extending one hand out which she took and let go of quickly. Molly finally spoke, “You should tell Dutch about... that. Thank you for taking me into town.” And then she walked off, hurrying over to the tent in the centre of camp.

And somehow this felt worse than everything that had happened in the past weeks. 


	2. Chapter 2

It really felt childish that he was as upset as he was over being ignored by Molly.

They had been more than settled in Horseshoe for a few weeks, Jack back to full health and John still picking at his scabs to Abigail's dismay. Dutch seemed back to his usual self, though the shadows under his eyes stayed. But for Javier, he didn't feel much better.

He was sleeping more easily again, void of dreams, but his pride was still bruised. And every time Molly averted her eyes from him, it was like someone pressing in that healing wound. 

But Javier was good at ignoring wounds. Literal and metaphorical. He had done a good job ignoring the pain his neck gave him as it had healed, and the pain in his heart when it had broken. And they way he had done it was through lots of drink, so when he was invited down to Valentine by Charles and Bill, he took it in a heartbeat.

He didn’t really know how to place how he felt about either of the boys. Bill he had ridden with a thousand times since Dutch had taken him in, and though when it was necessary they worked well together, Javier always kept note of every slur Bill had ever called him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he’d even be sad if the man dropped dead, though he was sure that he’d notice the absence. Where Bill had cemented himself in familiarity, Charles had nothing. New to the gang, barely half a year in, Charles had left little impression on Javier other than he could get his shit done. And that he could be one sullen bastard.

So not exactly his first choice in drinking partners (Arthur and John would always come first) but decent enough. And it wasn’t just drink they had lured them down with.

“Hosea’s been saying these folk are as dumb as them sheep they herd,” Bill had told him as they rode down. “Good pickings.”

“Well if we don’t get anything, at least you’ll fit right in.” Javier had tried to joke, but with the look that crossed Bill’s face, he didn't get it at all. 

“You’re always running your mouth like you actually got something to say. I liked you better when you were still a mute.”

He clicked his tongue at that. When he had joined up with the gang it had been under completely unideal circumstances. Nearly starved to death and still had the loosest grasp on the language, Javier had zero idea what any of their intentions had been. For weeks he had been ready for any one of them to kill him in his sleep. Slowly but surely that fear passed, especially at the gentle hands of the now-deceased Bessie, but in that time he had barely said a word. He really could have kicked Bill off his horse for that comment.

When they had gotten into town, Bill had been quickly distracted by something which had left Charles and Javier to the saloon. And it had hit him that this was the first time they had ever been alone together. “I’ll buy the first round and we’ll go from there eh?” Javier had tried to be cheery, giving him a well-meaning pat on the back. But all he got was a hum and he just knew this was going to be a long drink.

The saloon hadn’t changed at all in the fortnight since he had stepped in with Molly. Same drab wallpaper, same piss-stained floors and somehow the same fools at the bar. 

“The height of culture, huh?” He had tried once more with Charles and this time he got a smile.

“Fit for men like us.”

A victory.

They had settled quickly at the bar, Javier suddenly in a good enough mood to buy one of the nicer bottles of bourbon for the two of them. Charles had taken the little shot with ease, pouring another for himself. He had remained quiet besides the thank you he had given him as Javier forked over the few dollars the bottle had cost. He supposed most people would find themselves awkward with someone like Charles. Big quiet types often had that sort of effect. But Javier never felt anything, but confidence in the way he could talk.

But still, not knowing Charles he didn’t want to make any big moves. “So, uh whereabouts are you from anyways?”

“Out West.” He took another hit from the shot. “You?”

Javier sighed. One to three-word sentences weren’t going to get him anywhere. “Canada.”

Charles snorted, a smile appearing again. He flashed him a smile before actually given an answer. “Nuevo Paraíso. It’s the state along the border. You could see it across the river at our old camp.”

Charles hummed, taking a moment. “I heard a few of them say you have a massive bounty there.”

He didn’t respond back immediately, taking a shot himself and hissing at the sting of the liquor. “Last time I checked it was around a thousand dollars. Lots of money down there. I’m not different then everyone else though. Even Mary-Beth has a bounty on her head somewhere I’m sure.”

“Fair enough. That’s a lot though. If I had known when we were still in New Austin, I might of turned you in.”

“Was… that a joke?”

His impression of Charles had changed in a moment as the man responded with a grin. Likeable. The drinks came easily after that and though the conversation stayed short and only skin deep, it was enjoyable. Eventually, though they were approached by two of the working girls in the saloon. 

A hand had shot between them, holding her own glass. Javier’s eyes had gone from the glass to the face of the woman and then straight to the massive tits she had on display _and then_ back up to her face.

“Pour a drink for a girl would ya?”

Without taking an eye off her, he had grabbed the bottle. “Course.”

The girls were agreeable in the way whores often could be. And Javier had enough liquor in him that he was feeling more than willing to play along with them, with Charles seeming just as willing too. Though he was reminded that he had agreed to come along drinking to forget a certain woman, which had popped into his mind when he realized the woman he was most heavily flirting with had red hair. Though it was anywhere near as beautiful as Molly’s, Javier had to accept he had a thing for redheads.

Their fun was quickly ruined by Arthur, who Javier had been excited to see and then… exasperated. A real nice comment about the women and he suddenly remember why it wasn’t actually that fun to go out with the man. Arthur was terrible with whores and he seemed to make a game out of getting rid of them.

If his luck couldn’t get any better, Bill had to come in too. And started a fight, though really a fight was something Javier could enjoy. Ending the fight having been bashed several times against the table by some big brute who had immediately locked eyes with him and called him a greaser was not something he could enjoy.

One second he was more friendly with the table than he had with the girls, the next he was on the ground, face throbbing like no tomorrow. He was glad to have bought Charles that bottle of bourbon when the man had been quick to help him up on his feet.

“I’m buying you another drink sometime,” He had tried to smile, but found himself winching instead.

“How about after we watch Arthur teach that fool a lesson.”

Short work was made of the big brute, though there was a moment where he thought Arthur was going to kill the guy. Until some scrawny little thing had stepped in to stop the fight. But no rest for the wicked, as the second they were off that porch, following Arthur to where he had wandered off to, they were met by a familiar face with a very outlandish accent.

Trelawny was quick to greet them and quick to get down the business. News that Sean was alive was welcomed, but hearing he was still in Blackwater and held by a bunch of bounty hunters was less than welcomed. With Dutch instructing him and Charles to go into Blackwater to find out what was what, Javier could only curse whatever decided to make his day so terrible.

They rode back to camp, now with Trelawny. Aside from the Englishman, they rode in silence. Javier didn't feel like trying to make conversation or encourage Trelawny’s rambling. They had only gone back to grab supplies and ride out as quickly as they could, but really he could have taken his time. A headache was starting to set in and the throbbing in his face hadn’t gone down at all. He must have looked just as bad as he felt judging by the looks of the few people he passed.

Passing by the largest tent, Javier hadn’t even tried to peer in. But the dry spell must have been over. 

“Mister Escuella!” His head shot up hearing Molly’s voice, so shocked. He looked to see her on the cot, working away on the wool they had gotten what felt like years ago. She wore the same expression she had when he had killed those O’Driscolls and Javier was ready for her disgust once more. But he didn’t get it.

Molly had hopped up from the cot and ran over to him, discarding her knitting and pulling out a little handkerchief instead. 

He held up his hands, trying to smile as best as he could. “I’m fine-”

“You're bleeding! What did you do?” She licked a small part of the cloth and raised it up to his lip, dabbing ever so lightly. She apologized when he hissed out in pain, but Javier waved her off. “You must of made someone real mad.”

“I could of used you for sure.” Javier’s heart nearly gave out as she smiled at that, something so soft and sweet. “It was Bill’s fault. I just got swept up in it.”

“Bar fight?”

“Exactly.” He winced as she moved her attention to another cut. “I nearly lost count of how many times the big bastard bashed my head against one of the tables. Might of been somewhere past 10.”

Molly gave a laugh at that. “My mam would say this would be a lesson to learn. It’s what men get for going to places of ill repute. Disease and broken bones.”

“She sounds like a smart lady. Though I’m not sure if she sounds fun.”

Molly gave a sigh and shook her head at that, though that smile still lingered on her face. “That woman had a wealthy marriage, six children, and never had to lift a finger till her death. She must have been doing something right.”

That caught him off guard. It was the very first snippet he had into her past life. “Then I take what I said back. Shame I can’t ask her for pointers.”

Javier took back everything he had thought about his day being terrible and started to not believe his luck. One moment everything seemed to just be on the downturn and suddenly Molly was giving him the softest look while she was taking care of him. The feelings of her fingers on his face, though a cloth separated him, did funny things to him. And he understood the English saying of ‘stomach butterflies’. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, not realizing he was speaking until the words were pouring out. “For what happened back-”

Molly shook her head and stopped him. “I should be apologizing. I guess I forgot what you are and I’m a coward.”

“I don't think there is anything cowardly about it.”

She snorted, her mouth drawn into a hard line. Her hand fell from his cheek and Molly just stared at him. “I guess I forgot you kill people just like most of them here. You seem… more civilized? Kinder? I don't know it’s just it sometimes feels like you don't belong. And seeing you do that made me realize you can be scary.”

Scary. It was a word he did like sometimes. He liked being able to unnerve people with just a glare. He liked being able to shoot down one man and make the rest scatter, afraid of him. There was a power to it. But now he wanted nothing more than to take back everything he had done to make himself appear that way to Molly. He would have happily kept her idealistic image of him forever.

Before he could say anything, she continued. “In a weird way, I’m glad. At least I’ve seen that side. Now I know you choose to be kind and gentle and that scary bit isn’t you.”

There were a billion things he could have said. He could have worked that old charm. He could have been bashful. Instead, Javier said the first thing that came to mind. “I hope you realize that I could just be pretending. Just like everyone else here. Even Dutch. What if I actually am a bad person.”

She didn't look away but stared just as intently as before. “I feel safe enough with you. It why I wanted to go into town with you before. Sometimes I think you're all talk and you're just a real softie.”

The mood that had built up between them had been broken in a split second and Javier was real close to showing Molly just how horrifying he could be as Trelawny called for him. He shot the man a look before turning his attention back to Molly but whatever had been there before was now gone. That soft smile of hers was still present on her face, however.

“Off on a mission?”

“Off to save your countryman.”

Javier could have laughed at how Molly rolled her eyes at the mention of Sean. “Pesky little bastard. I thought he died.”

“Apparently not. And now we’re off to Blackwater.”

The mention of the town made her eyes widen. Her concern was touching. “Just be careful then. And good luck.”

“I feel like I need it. If I can, I’ll try to grab your knitting.”

Molly laughed at that, twisting his insides up once more. “I could worry less about that compared to your safety.”

Her concern and her smiles had been enough to keep the ever-present pain away as he rode back down into New Austin. Even Trelawny’s constant jabber barely affected him.

-

“Think you could copy this melody?” Sean had asked him, leaning hard onto his shoulder. If they hadn’t been sitting, the man would've fallen for sure. For most of the night, the gang had been drinking away in honour of the loud mouth’s return and Javier was far enough into his bottle that Sean’s request didn’t annoy him. Though even if it had annoyed him, he wasn’t given a chance to answer as Sean began to hum a tune.

He picked up on the melody quick enough and strummed along the strings of his guitar till Sean had yelled out he had gotten it.

“Keep at it give me one second,” Sean had cried out and then turned to look around the camp. Everyone was mingling with someone, and if they weren’t, like Javier had been, they were watching over with a drink in hand. Whoever Sean had been looking for caught his eye, as he yelled out once more. Javier’s stomach did a flip when he saw it had been Molly.

“So, tell me Miss O’Shea, did your rich parents ever let you learn trad songs or was that a bit too rebellious for your lot?” He teased as she walked up to them.

She glared at him, jutting her chin up. “I know a few, thank you.”

“Bard of Armagh?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, you're in luck then, Mister Escuella here will play and we shall sing, how about that?” He said with a wink. Javier just sighed and shook his head. "Hey, it's my party and all of you are singing all American songs. I want something from back home."

"You're an idiot," Javier told him, though he could understand the sentiment

Molly looked over the pair of them, expression still hard. It wasn’t until she looked at him that her expression softened, “I guess.”

Sean clapped his hands together and motioned to Javier with a wave of his hand to play. He made a mental note to fuck with him later when he’d be undoubtedly hungover. 

The tune which had been sweet enough earlier was made even more so by Molly’s voice. Sean sang as any drunken man would, but Molly sang so soft and careful. And it struck him he had never heard her sing before. It took everything in him to play even the simple melody as his beating heart made his hands shake.

The song turned out to be short, and Javier had found himself disappointed he hadn’t retained a single thing except for the sweet and rich timbre of her voice. Sean had tried calling for another song, but she had shot him down fast.

“I agree to only that one, Mister MacGuire, thank you very much.” He had scoffed at her and turned his attention elsewhere. Which left Molly along with Javier. She gave him a smile before asking, “Do you happen to know more songs like that?”

He shook his head, finding that he couldn't find his words. Taking a second to clear his throat and compose himself, he answered, “Just gave me the melody and I copied.”

“Must have good pitch then?”

He shrugged. “Just an okay ear. You're... uh, singing was good. Have you any training? Or did you just whip that out?”

She gave a light laugh, averting her eyes. His own gaze fell to her hands which she held so delicately upon her abdomen. It was an odd thing to get transfixed on, but he marvelled at how even her hands were pretty. 

“Just naturally good I suppose. Used to play the piano back home though. I think I told you that once?”

She had, a very long time ago. It had been during some of her first days in the camp where they had sat side by side in the evenings talking about whatever. Molly had told him that as she had tapped along invisible keys. He had been transfixed by her hands then, though more for how quickly they had moved. He remembered making a joke about how with fingers like hers she’d make a good thief. And how she had taken offence to that.

“Yeah, I remember. Just you never sang that all.”

She hummed. “My sister was more the singer. Sweet girl. Dark hair, pale eyes. A real beauty. I’m sure she’d married now.”

He nodded, unsure as to how to respond. A connection was there, but hesitation always came when he wanted to talk about such a topic. But he took it anyway.

“My dad was a musician. For a time. Taught me and my sister all he knew.”

Her eyes widened at that. “A musician. Like as in he did work as that?”

And the reason why he had always hesitated when talking about his father was right there in that question. It was always a bitter memory. “For a time.”

He could remember evenings wrapped up in a blanket, his mother’s arm around him as she would tell stories of her youth. One of her favourites had been about how she had met his father. He had been originally a musician working for the family who had owned the estate they worked on. They had fallen in love, he had married her, and they had lived happily. What she hadn’t told him was that with the revolts and the political uncertainty that plagued their province, he had lost his position as a musician as Senor Allende rather put the money towards security. It had been lucky that his father had gotten work alongside his uncle to work with livestock, but with a dream dead and another mouth to feed in time, he had turned to drink.

Any memory had been bitter, even the good ones.

“Well if anything I am glad he taught you something.” She said with a smile. “And I’m glad that guitar made it out of Blackwater. Between you and me some nights I’d destroy that phonograph if it meant we could only have you for music around here.”

He really didn’t know what to say. Probably looked like a fool with his mouth popped open staring up at her. He’d been told he was really talented and that he had a fine voice, but really this was the top compliment he had ever gotten. And somehow he was more smitten.

He watched her walk away at the call of Dutch, feeling a sort of feeling he hadn’t in years. And it amplified as Molly took one last moment to look behind her, to smile at him.

-

_He was a real idiot for getting himself into this. The soldiers had confused him for one of the rebels and despite how much he had told them that he was working on behalf of the sheriff in town they hadn’t listened. Trying to pull his gun on them hadn’t worked at all. It had led him to his knees with a knife pressed against his neck, hands bound behind his back. The real kicker had been they were going to kill him with his own damn knife._

_“Anything you want to confess, bastard,” The soldier who appeared in charge asked him, standing in front of him. “Before my friend here slices your throat open?”_

_“Yeah. Tell your whore of mother I'm gonna miss fucking her.” It was a childish send-off, but Javier was filled with a desperate sort of anger he just went with the first thing that popped to mind._

_Before the soldier could respond, a shot rang out, hitting the man square in the forehead. The shock of what had just happened had not worked in his favour though, as the soldier that held him recoil in fear, and dug the blade well into his neck._

_He really couldn't say what had happened next, as he clung to his neck, the pain so extraordinary that his vision narrowed to the point where Javier thought he was going to pass out._ _But he could hear more gunfire and yelling and screams. And then there were arms on him, telling him to hold still. One man pressed a cloth to his wound, applying enough pressure to hurt. And all he could do was let them._ _He got one good look at the man, young and pretty. The man then looked to him, eyes so soft and kind. And he gave him one good smile._

_It was there that Javier passed out, slumping onto him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I am going somewhere with all of this


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really know what to say here other than thank you to everyone who's been reading so far. I'm honestly surprised people are interested in this ship at all considering it had been born out of me being unable to accept either Javier or Molly's fate in the series. You guys are fantastic.

“So where did you hear about this?” Arthur had asked him as they took the long ride down the mountain. “I mean, I don’t see you leaving camp too often.”

Javier shot him a look. “Keep that up and I’ll invite Micah next time.”

Arthur threw up his hands and gave a good laugh; it was enough to get rid of any bad feelings and make Javier laugh too. This was why Javier had sat around most of the morning waiting for the man to come back from some overnight hunting. Robbing a homestead filled with a bunch of crazies was easy enough work, he had dealt with harder during his stint as a bounty hunter, but he did always appreciate having Arthur by his side.

“I’ve left camp a few times, thank you. I heard about it when I was in town, something about the son and then I heard again when I was out shooting some bottles with some guy-”

“With some guy? Really so you dragged me all the way out here, told me absolutely nothing, and almost got me shot on the account of some guy?” Arthur didn’t seem that upset about it, though a little peeved.

“Yeah. Was heading out and met this guy. From Jalisco. So we got to talking about home and what we miss and whatever. Then we started talking about the area here and he had come across them some time ago, and they had immediately started shooting at him. So, being the good criminal I am, I did more research and voila.” He gave a good pat to his satchel. “We got paid.”

“I still want to be better informed next time,” Arthur said. “I think I know who you're talking about, met him in the Heartlands and lost 20 bucks to him. Only Mexican I've come across so far in the area.”

At that, Javier snorted. “Your aim is getting bad, old man.”

Arthur grumbled about live targets and how he wasn’t getting old, but it was too late. Javier could stop snickering over it. If it had really been the same man, Arthur lost to one big blowhard and for some reason that was the funniest thing to him.

“Hey, look at that.” Arthur pointed over to an area farther down the road. The sight was enough to completely eradicate the giggly feeling immediately. Green was speckled in the men’s fashions, one with a waistcoat, the other a kerchief tied around his throat and the next with a band on his hat.

“You know, I really hate Colm,” Javier said, hand going to his gun. “But I will give him credit. At least they got a uniform.”

“Well, you can have a chat with Dutch about that later. Right now.” Arthur didn’t finish what he was sayin’ but jerked his head towards them.

“Yeah, I know.”

They kept their guns holstered as they made their way down the mountain path, keeping an eye on the O’Driscolls and a hand ready to go to their guns. Shoot on sight was normally the rule when it came to these bastards, but Javier knew Arthur well. He’d try to avoid a fight where he could. The three men were by the side of the road, chatting away, all of them had their guns drawn. The fools were either waiting for other O'Driscolls or easy pickings. He couldn't care which.

He had seen plenty of fools like the O’Driscolls. Cock-sure, trigger happy imbeciles that took pleasure in cause displeasure for others. Morals didn’t matter to them. It was what separated ‘us’ from ‘them’. There was a sense of morality to their murdering and thieving. Though Javier was sure he didn’t give a shit about anything the second guns were drawn.

And sure enough.

“Hey, big guy!” One of them called out, an American with a noticeable Northern accent. “Whatchu think you’re doing?”

Before Arthur could have had a chance to reply, the other man realized who they were. “Shit that’s Arthur Morgan. Sh-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Arthur proved exactly why he was Dutch’s best gun. With blinding speed and precise aim, he blew the man’s skull right open and dropped to the ground. The other two had nothing on them really, Javier was able to get the American down with two quick shots and Arthur finished off the other. The gunfire had been enough to rattle the horses, as Boaz whinnied beneath him and stomped his hooves nervously. Javier patted him assuringly as Arthur got off his own to check the bodies.

“Nothin’ interesting.” He declared, checking the last man. The horses had run off so there was no chance of checking the saddles. “Rotten luck we have.”

“I think I should be offended they recognized you, but not me. How many Mexicans does Dutch have riding with him compared to angry white men?”

Arthur snorted, shaking his head as he made his way back to his horse. He looked over the bodies one more time, feeling apathetic. Taking lives was easy to him, something that should disturb him. Staring at the man who had been first gunned down, Javier felt something lurch in him, an odd feeling. It took him a second, but as he felt the blood drain from his face as he realized the gunshot was near on the same as on the ferry. Not as grotesque and horrifying, but so similar.

He had tried not to think much about it. Since they had settled in Horseshoe, he had learned the name of the woman Dutch had killed after picking up a bit of newspaper. Originally kindling for the scout campfire, Javier had ended up reading it, slowly as he had never gotten a good grasp on such a thing, and found that a good section had been about the robbery. Now dubbed “The Blackwater Massacre”. A suiting name.

Heidi McCourt had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had cried as Dutch held her at gunpoint, an attempt to quell the guards on the boat. But things were not calm, less so when the Pinkertons and bounty hunters showed up. It was a good ol’ fashioned standoff and Javier found himself smack in the middle. He had watched as Micah had egged Dutch on, telling him to get it over with and that there was no getting out of this with clean hands. He didn’t understand what happened next or rather how Dutch came to the conclusion that shooting that poor woman was the right choice, but it happened. Loud gunfire, screams, and blood splattered against the wall.

He had sat there with that newspaper in hand, reliving it all over again. The gunfire afterwards, the sheer terror of thinking death was so close. And he was there again, as he sat in saddle staring at the dead body. He had nearly jumped out of his skin as Arthur touched him.

“You alright there Javier?” There was genuine concern in his tone and expression that made Javier feel guilty for being the cause.

He nodded his head, ignoring the urge to touch his neck where that scar laid. “Course. Just… messy.”

Arthur just stared at him, the brim of his hat casting a shadow of most of his face. If he didn’t believe him, he didn’t say. After a moment, Arthur nodded and turned his horse around and clicked his tongue. He let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t have to defend himself.

The ride down the mountain and into the Valentine remained quiet and uneventful. He was glad for it, as he found himself delving deep into thought. Not just about Blackwater, but beyond. He had been thinking more on his run with the revolutionaries more than he had in years, which always left him melancholic. Javier had seen horror then, more than he had as a bounty hunter and as a simple peasant boy. And in those two lives, he had seen some pretty gruesome things. And in every life he had lived, he had lost too much.

He finally broke the silence then.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” Javier asked Arthur, as they rode out of the town. “I mean, I trust Dutch and I know he’ll do us good, but I mean do you think everything is going to go back to how it was.”

The cynic in him wanted to believe things weren’t going to be fine every again, but there was a larger part that wanted to hear Arthur tell him everything was going to be just fine.

“I ain’t sure.” He said, rubbing his neck. “I think… and well I’ve been saying this for a while now, but I think we are the last of all of it. Just gotta ride it out for as long as we can and move on.”

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but better than the worst case. “I guess.”

“Look, I know where I lie and what’s gonna happen to me. I ain’t nothin’ out of this gang. And I’m sure I will die with it, but that’s what I choose. No matter what happens, good or bad, I will stay here.”

“I guess I’m the same-”

Arthur chuckled. “No, you ain’t. No offence, you are definitely the most loyal out of all of us, but I always got the sense that the second you could go home, you’d leave without a second thought and I won’t shame you for it.”

Javier couldn’t defend himself there. He knew the second the border opened back up again and his bounty was lifted, he was running home. Sometimes he dreamed of it, a world where his mama was still alive and his sister still unmarried. At the little house where he had been born and raised, where nothing had ever changed. That world didn’t exist though and there was no chance he was going to be reunited with what was left of his family. He lost a fair bit of family in the revolts that had plague his province in '83 and '84.

“You’re my family now.” He said quietly. “I got nothing other than you.”

“Yeah, but we ain’t your home.”

He didn’t really know how to respond to that. He had just given an emotionless laugh. “You know, despite what Dutch says, you’re kinda clever. You twist words around almost as well as Hosea.”

Arthur had laughed at that. “Yeah well, cleverness only comes to me once every blue moon. You, on the other hand, I’m still having a good laugh over that barn catching fire. Real quick thinkin’.”

They chatted idly after that, nothing of any real importance. It wasn’t until they hitched their horses that Arthur decided to hit him with more profound words. “You know, I always do enjoy ridin’ with you. Always know it will be a good time when I’ve got you by my side.”

It was enough to make Javier blush a little. “Yeah, well you know it's the same with me. I’d ride with you any day.”

Before anything else could be said, Abigail had interrupted, coming over to them in a half-assed jog. She paid little attention to Javier, only giving him a quick look before turning to Arthur. 

“John wanted me to tell you he got that thing ready for both of you. He didn’t say anything other than that, and he was being all coy and mysterious about it so it’s probably a bunch of nonsense.” They must have had a fight again, the quick way she was speaking and how she nearly spat out John’s name. “Can you go and keep him out of trouble.”

“Sure, but you’re probably sending the wrong person if you don’t want nonsense.” Arthur joked, which Abigail had huffed at. The two of them watched as he got back up onto his horse and rode off in the direction of Valentine. It was then Abigail finally acknowledged his existence.

“I want to ask you a question.” She said, crossing her arms. “What are you doing?”

“Right now, talking to you.” He tried teasing, but she really wasn’t in the mood.

“I mean with Molly.”

“Oh.”

Since Sean’s party, Molly had been on edge. He had watched with disgust and jealousy as she seemed to cling more onto Dutch than usual, cooing and praising him. It had hurt him to watch it happen, and it had been a catalyst for him to leave camp as often as he could. It was leaving camp one day as he watched the two of them giggle over each other that he had run in the lead about the Porter family.

But when Dutch wasn’t around, she seemed drained. And for the last few weeks, their lovebird act had finally died as Dutch’s attention started to shift elsewhere. And Molly had started sitting by Javier more in the evenings. He hadn't expected anyone to question him about it.

“Oh?” Abigail replied, her voice raising an octave. “That’s all you gotta say? Oh?”

“I don't really see how what I’m doing with Molly is any of your business-”

“It’s my business when Tilly is all weepy. If I can give you some advice, whatever you're trying with Molly isn’t going to work. You know damn well that poor Tilly has feelings for you and you should be drawing your attention there.”

He was very well aware of that, though he doubted that Tilly was actually crying over him. Instead, Javier was sure this outburst was over Abigail being frustrated.

“You know I’m allowed to be nice to the ladies without expecting them to fuck me? I know that’s a concept you're not familiar with-”

“Go to hell. And don’t be stupid.” She sounded so exhausted rather than mad. Before he could apologize or maybe ask for more clarification of what stupid entailed, she walked off.

The thought of Tilly was now in his head, which he wasn’t too sure he was happy about. For a short while, there had been something growing in him for her. A soft sort of feeling that came with familiarity. Molly hadn’t been the only girl he’d been nice too. All of them got that treatment. In a way, it was a carry-over of what he had with his sister. Dear and sweet Maria-Estrada who was fiery and unyielding. Who had been turned more jaded by their upbringing than he had. Who had only been sweet on him and no one else.

But Tilly, who had told him to his face in the weeks before they had even settled at Blackwater she had a hankering for him, had upgraded herself for a short moment from _una hermanita_ to something else. It had died though the second he had kissed her, on an impulse brought on by a quiet moment, and realized there was nothing there. And she hadn’t held it against him, and they had fallen back to where they were before.

So he really doubted that Tilly was crying over him for being nice to Molly. But it had sparked paranoia in him. Was it obvious he was harbouring feelings for Miss O’Shea? 

He felt like an idiot after the thought hits him, but it was in that moment he finally realized something that should have been so goddamn obvious. He was sweet on Molly O’Shea. Audibly groaning, he buries the palms of his hands into his eyes, pressing till he is seeing a kaleidoscope of colour. He takes a moment before pulling them away, as trying to force away the embarrassment he has for having such feelings is near impossible. His little break was on full view though, as the few that are in camp and are nearby, look at him with varying degrees of concern. He says nothing, pulling down his hat till it covers a good portion of his face.

Wandering off to grab his guitar in the pale hope that distracting himself would be a good enough remedy to this embarrassment, Javier notices Molly sitting on one of the rocks with a book in hand. And like the fool he is, there is a temptation to wander over to her and just talk.

It’s odd being in love. He had forgotten that. It had been 5 years since he had felt such a thing and what a passionate and short affair that had been. But love, when it was calm, was just wanting to be in their presence. Listen to them talk, hear them laugh, watch the little things they did. Become fixated on the way they brushed their hair out of their face or how they crossed their legs. And he wanted that so badly with Molly. 

And he was reminded all too well he couldn’t. She was Dutch’s. Who knew if they’d last, from what he knew the chances of that were slim, but even if they fell apart she probably wouldn’t have him. It was something he admired from her, pride. He could so easily imagine her offence at him trying to make a move if Dutch had decided to end things. 

And he’d love her for it.

Before he could succumb to his impulses, Sean had come up to Molly and was obviously being his annoying self. So, Javier went off to his spot beneath the tree by the cliff and played. Losing himself in the music, he was almost at peace again. That was until John, Dutch and a wounded Strauss came riding into camp like devils were at their heels.

-

It was kind of sad how he was so used to this. Having to pack up camp in a hurry as the threat of bounty hunters was looming over their heads. Having lost most of what he had back in Blackwater, packing up his things took no time and he found himself rushing about helping. By the time Arthur rolled back into camp, mostly everything was packed up well and Javier was leaning on some of the crates, idly checking his gun as he waited for further instruction. Seeing the sour look on his face, Javier could not help himself in throwing a quick jab.

“Hello Arthur, had fun in town?” He got a dirty look for that, but a smile played on Arthur’s lips, so he knew it was all well and good. He walked as the man marched over to the main tent where Hosea and Dutch were arguing. Now bored, he turned his attention away from his gun and to Karen who was coming back into camp.

“Anything interesting out there?” He asked, slotting his gun away into its holster. She shook her head, looking a little pissed.

“Why is it I keep missing all the action and you boys get to shoot things. I almost want one of these sons of bitches to come and trying something.”

He laughed at that, always appreciating her spirit. “Bid your time _chica_ you'll get to shoot something soon.”

“Bastards couldn't of have waited till we got the plan to rob the bank all down. That should of been what drove us out of there, not some bullshit with some sheep.”

“I think it was a little more complicated than that.”

She waved that off and made her way over the wagon were the other girls were finishing up the last bit of packing. He watched as Arthur made his way back out of camp again, this time with Charles and knew it was for scouting. It was almost always Arthur who found a new location, though in the past it was with Hosea. But judging from the words exchanged before, Hosea was in no mood to be doing Dutch’s bidding.

It was then that he took an opportunity to talk to Dutch; something he wanted to do since they had landed in Horseshoe. It never had felt like a good time to do it, but now felt like a better time than ever.

He had made his way up to the tent and took a moment to stand just outside. Dutch was reading something so Javier knew better than to openly draw attention to himself. He instead waited a moment before clearing his voice a little, in a way that sounded natural instead of demanding. He still took a moment before looking up from the book and looked almost pleased to see him.

“Ah, Javier, my boy.” He didn’t close the book but instead placed a finger in it to act as a marker. He wasn’t expecting anything from Javier, that's what that told him. That this conversation was going to be short even if Javier needed it to be lengthy.

“I don’t mean to disturb you?”

“Of course not. What is it?”

There was no mincing his words. “What now?”

There was one thing Javier had learned in the 4 years he had been with the gang. Dutch didn’t like being outright questioned. It was his biggest flaw. Javier, loyal as he was, knew what an issue that could become but figured there was good reason for it. Dutch didn’t like getting shoved around and there was something admirable about it. So, Javier tried to not question him without a little bit of foreplay and even then he was careful. But Blackwater had hardened him in a way and he really couldn’t look at Dutch without reminding him of Miss McCourt. And that reminder was enough to take away any tact he had.

Dutch had raised his eyebrows at that. “What now? Now we get out of here. Put a little distance between ourselves and make due. They’ll forget about us in due time.”

“You really think they're going to let a bunch of criminals go?” Even he couldn't humour that delusion. Javier had lived the life of a bounty hunter and an enemy of the State long enough that he knew how this worked. “After what we’ve done?”

“We are not criminals.” Dutch’s tone got hard, and he watched as that finger slipped from the book and it was shut tight. “We’re outlaws.”

“There’s a difference?” 

“Of course there’s a goddamn difference," He snapped. "and when you figure out what that is you’ll know what the hell we’re doing.”

He had to bite back what he wanted to say truly. He knew what the difference was, he had been chasing bounties at fifteen, making a name for himself as the youngest in his country and to boot, one with a clean record. He had been infamous by the time he was eighteen and feared. He had also lived a good 8 months as a rebel, fighting for a cause and smearing a black line through the reputation he had built with those in charge. A criminal never called himself a criminal. He was always an outlaw. He deluded himself and thought he was better. And there was no pretending here that they really were better.

“I’m just worried Dutch. About all of us. You know most of us can handle ourselves, even Bill has proved that. But we are different from what we were 3 years ago. We got more woman with us, we have a child with us. You have Molly who isn’t used to this life-”

“Miss O’Shea will have to learn to harden herself to the ugly nature that is life.” He hissed. “The sooner she learns that life isn’t handed to her on a silver platter, the better. I will see us through this. The women know this and so does little Jackie. All I ask for is a little faith and loyalty. Is that hard for you to give?”

They stared at each other, hard. He hated to admit it, but Dutch was right in one way. “You always have my loyalty Dutch. I just-”

“Just nothing. Right now, I need you determined. I need you strong.” 

“Okay?”

“Not okay. ‘ _Okay, okay_ ’-” Javier bit on his tongue as Dutch did a rough imitation of his accent. “Yes or no. Strong or weak. What are you?”

“Strong.” He said, thinking about his sleepless nights, his fears, the ever haunting image of Heidi McCourt. He thought about watching his friends back home being shot down one by one, their bodies hung in town as a warning. He thought about how scared he had been crossing the border, not knowing what was ahead. And how that fear never left him. There was so much uncertainty about his future; about where he stood as a man. He didn't know where his feeling laid and if he really had the strength to keep to his morals. To keep being Javier Escuella.

Because there was now the very real fear that somehow they were straying farther and farther from the ideals Dutch had originally enthralled him with. The conversation with Arthur earlier that day really had planted a seed of doubt in him. This was his family, but really how much was he willing to lose?

He wasn’t so sure as he meekly repeated the word “strong” once more. He had lost Dutch’s attention as the made had opened the boom back up once more, flipping to the page he had been at with a sort of attitude that said get lost. But even after this conversation, Javier couldn't find it in himself to really doubt Dutch. He had a plan. He always did. And things had to turn out okay because he wasn't sure if he could handle it not being okay.

So he walked away, deluding himself even further.

-

_He woke up in sheer pain. Remembering quickly the incident that had happened, and Javier’s hand had gone flying up to his neck to feel it tightly wound in bandages._

_“So, you’re finally awake?” A voice asked out. He turned his head gingerly to see that it was the handsome man from before. He smiled toothily and found himself focusing on the gap between his two front teeth. “You’ve been out for the better part of the day, friend. Sorry for getting you caught up in all this.”_

_“Why are you apologizing?” His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was gravelly and rough, and he found that it hurt to speak. “Fucking militia has always been filled with idiots who are too happy to spill blood.”_

_The man smiled even bigger at that. “What is your name, my friend? I feel we may have somethings in common.”_

_“Javier Jesús Escuella Madera.” He said with no hesitation. “We still in Punto Orgullo?”_

_The man nodded. “I know your name. Who knew a famous bounty hunter would grace his presence here? Say, Javier Jesús Escuella Madera, how do you feel about the government now that it tried to slit your neck open?”_

_“Pretty sore.”_

_The man gave a soft laugh at that. “Well then, heal up as much as you can. And if you’d like, we can talk about the glorious future. She is singing to you right now even if you cannot hear it. It’s a beautiful song that asks only for the freedom of Mexico. You see, I have a good feeling about you.”_

_He squinted at the man then, definitely not appreciating the poetry. He repeated his question from earlier. “Are we still in Punto Orgullo?”_

_“Right outside of Escalera.”_

_“And my horse?”_

_“Stabled.”_

_He got up then, bringing himself into a sitting position with much effort. He groaned at the pain that was radiating out of his neck, but he ignored it well enough. “Well, I’m sorry sir, but my village isn’t far from here. I’d rather rest up someplace else.”_

_“May I accompany you there? I really am sorry. Me and my men are the reason the militia is wound up so tight. I feel guilty about what has happened to you.” His smile had dropped and he had taken on a serious look. He noted how he still looked handsome even stern. Maybe more so._

_Javier looked him over, somehow trusting the man just by aura he gave off. In his line of work, you didn’t trust fuck all unless you wanted to die with a knife in your back. So he really didn't like this feeling at all. “Only if you give me your name.”_

_The man had picked his smile back up again, but it a small, soft thing. Almost affectionate. “Guillermo Bolivar Zapatero Castille, ever at your service. But let’s skip formalities and long names. Call me Guillermo and I shall call you Javier. Does that sound good?”_

_“Good enough.”_

_“Well then, let’s get you home.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Clemens Point, he decides, isn’t half bad. The exodus from Horseshoe had left a bitter taste in his mouth that had only been cleansed by the hot soupy air of Lemonye. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the heat.

But in this new and strange land, not much had changed. Dutch was back to his wild schemes and Hosea, ever the cunning artist was off playing up some old slaver family. He didn’t really understand the logistics of it, nor did any of the other’s really. But if Dutch and Hosea had faith in it, then they would follow. Didn’t stop them from whispering about it around the campfire at night, though they did agree that any plan that got Arthur to prance about like a wannabe deputy was a good one, if only for the laugh.

But still, Javier found himself unsure. He tried his hardest to keep that same sort of devotion he had before, fooling himself into believing every word, but it wasn’t as possible as it once was before. He’d reason away and that ever creeping feeling of doubt would worm its way into his reason till it was brittle. 

So he buried himself in work. By good graces, his name hadn’t been besmirched in Valentine, which he took great advantage of. He took a few bounties and talked with the few vaqueroes that the yard manager would hire. He ended up staying a few late nights drinking at one of the men’s house. These men weren’t from Nuevo Paraíso, some from Jalisco and Oaxaca, but it was good to be in the company of fellow countrymen again. It made him miss home and what he had left behind.

It had been on one of these trips he had actually run into an old face.

“ _Mister Escuella?_ ” He had been drinking with one of the men, Israel Sanchez when this kid had addressed him, in Spanish with an all so familiar accent that screamed home. Javier took one look at him and knew in an instant. The last time he had seen him, the kid had been truly a kid, barely 13 and scraggly. And his heart stopped.

“ _Francisco Zapatero._ ” He whispered, feeling as though he was seeing a ghost. Francisco looked so much like his older brother. The same soft brown eyes that had stared up dead at the world five years ago. And with a horrible ache in his chest, he stood up. “ _What are you doing here?_ ”

“ _Working._ ” The kid shrugged. “ _Ran with a group of bounty hunters and now I’m working solo. I’d ask what you’re doing up here, but I know._ ”

Israel had looked up at him then, “You know this man?”

“Yeah,” Javier replied, looking from Israel to Francisco. “I was good friends with his brother.”

He said his goodbyes to Israel and before the kid could ask, he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him far from the house and over to where he had hitched Boaz. 

He had buried Guillermo so long ago, trying to ignore his ghost and yet here it was again. In a moment, he relived it all again. The friendship that had budded after he had gotten his throat slashed, the days riding today, burning wagons and stealing supplies, the kisses that were stolen, and being presented his corpse at the end of it. Being reminded of it all again made him bitter.

“ _Riding as a bounty hunter?_ ” He snapped. “ _Really, Pancho? You think that’s a smart idea?_ ”

“ _You did it, once._ ” Francisco broke away from his grip. “ _Guillermo always said you were a hypocrite-_ ”

“ _I’m saying this cause I know life! I had no choice. It was either be a peasant for the Allende’s, picking corn and cotton, or doing something where I could be my own man and support my family. I had a drunkard for a father and mother too fucking naive to see how we were nothing more than slaves. I had no choice other than risk my life._ ”

“ _Maybe I have no choice!_ ” He argued, voice raising enough to crack. “ _Maybe I need to do something for my family-_ ”

“ _Your mama and papa are both still alive, and well off. They have a business, Pancho. You have an education and a chance-_ ”

Francisco snapped then, getting right up in his face, foaming at the mouth. “ _You don’t know what things are like at all! Things are worse off because of you idiots stirring up the militia. Don’t pretend you know me or care about me! I am my own man and I could do what I want._ ”

A man? Javier remembered Francisco when he had been just a kid. Guillermo had been sweet on his little brother, sheltering him in any way he could. The family had been well off, running a store in Escalera and never knowing true hardship. Little bitty Pancho Zaptero knew nothing about what it was like to starve, to have nothing to your name or to fight tooth and nail for anything. And he had envied that, and just Guillermo wanted to protect that.

“ _Your brother would of-_ ”

“ _My brother is dead._ ” He said, voice returning to normal, though his face was still flushed. “ _He’s been dead a while and for what? I want to live life, I want an adventure. And I’ll do it in a smarter way than Guille did._ ”

Javier sighed then, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _Guillermo didn’t do what he did for an adventure. He did it because he had no other choice. Good men don’t sit idly by by injustice takes place._ ”

“ _I’ve heard things about you. You don’t seem like one of the good guys anymore._ ” His words came like a punch to his stomach. “ _I hear you're riding in a gang now. Robbing banks and stealing from people. I wonder what he’d think of you now?_ ”

( _“You’d make a good wife.” Guillermo had said as they laid together, his fingers tracing so light over his arm. He had smiled then, that little gap between his teeth was ever still so cute. “Or maybe I’d be the wife.”_

_Javier had laughed, pressing his lips to his. “I’d make you into a fine woman.”_

_"Cook and clean for you?”_

_“Of course.”_

_“God, think of the children we’d have!”_

_“With any luck, we made some tonight.”_

_Guillermo had laughed, whole body shaking. “Ay, it’s a good thing I love you Javi. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’d put up with you.”_

_“You love me?” It was the first time those words had been utter, and it sent chills down his spine._

_“Yes.” Guillermo had said, barely above a whisper. “I think the world of you Javi. If you asked me to, I’d bring down every star for you.”)_

“ _Who knows,_ ” Javier replied, his voice hoarse as emotion overcame him. “ _Just… don’t be stupid. And look for me. If you ever need my help. Write to a Tacitus Kilgore, and I will come._ ”

Francisco eyed him up with scrutiny. “You learned how to read?”

“ _Adapt and survive, my friend._ ”

“ _I don't need help. I’m a man now-_ ”

“ _Even when I rode on my own, I got help sometimes. We can’t win them all on our own. Sometimes we need a bit of help._ ” He interrupted. “ _If I can’t stop you, then I will help you. As long as you promise not to turn me in, Mister Big and Mighty Bounty Man._ ”

And for the first time, he got that kid to smile and found himself sore seeing they had the same sort of smile. Lacking the gap in his tooth.

“ _For the sake of my brother and the friendship you two had, I would never._ ” He said. “ _I would not be able to live with myself if I did. I couldn’t return home if I had. You’re a hero to some of the people there._ ”

“ _If I’m a hero than I’m no better Antonio de Santa Anna._ ” he sighed. “ _Please write to me, I beg._ ”

“ _I’ll think about it._ ” Was all he said.

There was no formal goodbye, he just watched as Francisco rode off, feeling a sense of loss. It wasn’t until he was too far for Javier to yell out to him that he realized a missed opportunity. If Francisco had been in Punto Orgullo these last few years, he would of had an idea what happened to his sister, Maria-Estrada. Ever since Hosea had sat him down and taught him to read and write, Javier had been wanting to write home to his sister but was always blocked by the fact that he had no clue as to where she was or what her new name was. He had only heard through an old acquaintance he had met that she had married, but he had nothing more.

That and Estralita was just as illiterate as he once was.

Frustration at realizing his mistake, Javier kicked a nearby tree hard and decided he had enough of Valentine. Hopping onto Boaz, he made his way out of the outskirts and back to camp.

Relaxation was not on the table when he made it back. He was immediately approached by John who told him about a job involving horses. And like with all things that involved these _maldito negreros_ nothing was simple. Promised five-thousand for horses that should have been easy to steal, Arthur, John and Javier had ended up being shot at and paid not even a quarter of the promised price. That and Javier had been called a greaser several times by the Gray guards, then by the Braithwaites’ stable master and hassled for simply being brown by some inbred twins. All in all, he came back to camp that evening pissed.

He had settled on sitting down by the dock, enjoying the peace and quiet the evening would bring (at least for a moment), but instead got distracted. 

“Getting too old for ya am I? That’s how it is with you, isn’t it.” He could hear Molly spit at Dutch. She sounded angrier than he had ever heard her, but their tent was closed and he really couldn’t see. His mother had warned him about eavesdropping and how God punished little boys who heard things they weren’t supposed to, but that didn’t stop him from moving close up to it.

“You’re delusional, again,” Dutch replied, annoyed.

“Won’t even look me in the eye, but you’ll look at her all day!” Javier knew that ‘her’ was Mary-Beth. Dutch had gotten bolder with his advances once they were settled and it was plain to anyone with eyes what was going on.

“It doesn’t matter what I’ll say, you’ll believe whatever fantasy you’re currently living in.”

“Fantasy?” Her voice raised at that, threatening to break. “You think this is a fantasy for me? Dutch, I am devoted to you! I am giving you everything I have. I-”

“I don’t have the energy for this right now.” He cut her off which she gasped at, offended.

“I’m not stupid, Dutch van der Linde. I have eyes, I can see what you are doing. It’s a dangerous game, I am warning you.”

“Will you be quiet!” He nearly shouted. He cleared his throat and said in a low voice, “I am trying to read.”

“Pig!” She cried out and without warning, came rushing out of the tent. And of course, it was right where Javier had been spying. They both stared at each other, him with eyes wide and Molly with a look of disgust. She gave a scoff and went storming off towards the docks. He felt like he had no other choice than to follow her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t-” He tried apologizing, following behind her, but she wasn’t having any of it

Turning on her heel quickly and snapping at him, she got real close in his face, “What? You didn’t mean to listen in to my conversation? Was it a good laugh for you? Watch me be put in my place or whatever the hell Dutch thinks he’s doing? Go to hell.” She went walking back off again.

“No,” He cried out, before jogging back up to her. She was now on the docks, arms crossed and looking near tears. “I just was being an idiot.”

“That’s not an excuse.” She cried. He looked around quickly, noticing that they had some eyes on them. “Look at me! What gives you the right!”

“I don’t know! I was just worried-”

“I don’t need your pity! I don’t need you looking at me like I’m something pathetic. I know who I am and I know what ya all say behind my back. That I’m crazy and losing it, but you’d be this crazy if you had as much to lose as I do.”

She was right back in his face again, and Javier had put up his arms like he was trying to calm down a stallion. He had just as much chance of getting knocked out by Molly just as with a wild horse. “I don’t think you're crazy.”

She definitely wasn't in any place to be calmed down. She kept going on, feeding off what she was saying before. “You know what they say about you? All that primping and ass-kissing you do. And they won’t stop saying it, because they’ve decided they don’t like you. So stop acting though you’re so high and mighty!”

“Molly!” He took a step back as she pressed forward more. “I’m not-”

“Not what? I told you I’m not stupid. How about you leave me be? I ain’t fucking you. Is that what you were hoping in there? That Dutch was going to have enough of me and you could make a move.” She jabbed him in the chest with one finger, and he was very aware of how close he was to the edge of the dock. He looked behind him to the water and back to Molly who was nearly as red as her hair with anger.

“I wasn’t hoping that.” Despite what he felt, he had come to the conclusion that even if he was in love he didn’t want to fantasize about her losing Dutch. That was somehow a line he didn’t want to cross. “Molly, I’m sorry. I wasn’t being nice to-”

“I’m not an idiot, I know what men want. And you're not getting it from me.”

“I-”

“So mind your own damn business and leave me be!” She jabbed him several times with her finger while taking one step forward and that was that for him. Javier instinctively took a step backwards and suddenly he was in the air. There was the sickening feeling of falling and the impact of water. He hadn’t realized how deep the lake got at this point and found himself nearly fully submerged. Floundering, he struggled to stand up on the silt but when he did he saw that they had grabbed the attention of most of the camp.

Bill and Micah, sitting at the poker table nearly lost their seats from laughing too hard. Dutch had exited the tent and was just shaking his head. Mary-Beth had a hand over her mouth and Tilly looked concerned. Sean ran up yelling out ‘what did I miss’ and nearly choked with laughter the instant he saw.

The feeling of red hot embarrassment consumed him in sections and it was even more embarrassing how hard he had to keep from tearing up. If there was a thing that Javier could not stand, it was a blow to his pride. He looked up to Molly and saw her red still but eyes wide open in shock like she couldn’t believe what she had done.

“Javier,” Her voice quivered. “I’m… I….”

He looked away, and down to the water. There was really nothing as he trudged through the silt and water back to shore. He ignored some of the jokes thrown at him and the concern too. He just made his way to Boaz with no second thought. With his rotten luck, Arthur had just decided to show up in camp then and was surprised to see him so waterlogged.

“What happened?”

Javier refused to look at him, knowing full well that the gossip on what happened would fill Arthur’s ears soon enough. “This has been one shitty day.”

He ignored Arthur’s questions and just rode off to anywhere that wasn’t camp.

  
-

It was his turn to avoid Molly like the plague. When he had come back to the camp the next, with a still wounded ego, he had just walked past her and gone straight to John to see if he needed any more help.

If he wasn’t busy before, he sure as hell was now. Only in camp in the evenings, Javier was out scouring for easy targets, quick jobs and straightforward bounties. Anything to make enough money.

In the evenings, he’d play his guitar for the campfire and sit by the girls if needs be, but he was in bed earlier than he’d ever been before and up early to leave camp as quickly as he could. Hunting, fishing, or just messing around, Javier just couldn’t stay in the camp where Molly could come up to him at any point.

The funny thing was it was less than she had effectively pushed him in the water, but more her words. That had cut real close to home. He wasn’t sure if he completely deserved the chewing out he got, but he definitely deserved a fair bit of it.

He heard from gossip with Tilly and Karen that things were getting worse between Molly and Dutch. That her anger had now turned to pleads and Dutch for the most part was ignoring her. 

“There’s something wrong there,” Tilly had told him. “She seems really desperate and I don’t think it’s cause she loves Dutch that much.”

Karen hummed at that, but Javier said nothing. Guilt was now hitting him for ignoring her too, but his pride hadn’t healed enough to try and approach her.

And it was during this time that what had been brewing between the gang, the Gray’s and the Braithwaites’ finally came to head. It was the one day Javier had stayed in camp, at the behest of Hosea who wanted him around for a job later. Micah came riding into camp, looking a little dishevelled and went straight to Dutch, with no intention of keeping his voice down.

“They crossed us. The Grays.” He said loud and clear. “Sean got shot in the head.”

“And the others.”

Micah snorted as he cleared his throat. “Bill is off burying the poor bastard and Arthur’s off moping somewhere like he does.”

It was an odd hour after that. The camp had gone into a sort of mourning. He was no stranger to losing a friend, they had lost the Callander Boys and Jenny not long ago, but this somehow hit differently. Sean had joined nearly two years previous and had immediately endeared himself in the way that an annoying cousin might. Javier felt his loss profoundly, and when Bill had returned to camp with fresh dirt on his hands, they were both quick to sit with each other and drink to Sean’s memory.

There was a commotion then from the other side of camp, which had piqued their interest only a little. It wasn’t until Molly came running over that Javier stood up, alarmed. She hadn’t tried approaching him straight up since the day after their spat.

“Arthur’s back and Jack is gone.” She informed them, out of breath and shaky. “Abigail just noticed that Jack never came back and you know how he’s allowed to wander a little bit now that he knows the area as long as he doesn’t go too far and the boy never-”

“Woah _tranquila_ ,” He held his hand out, barely brushing her shoulder. She placed a hand over her heart, breathing still heavily. “What’s going on?”

“Those hillbillies Dutch and Hosea have been dealing with. The inbred slavers. They took Jack!”

He had looked over to Bill who had jumped up to. “Well then, best grab the lads.” He said before marching over to where the others had congregated. Javier focused back on Molly who was nearly shaking.

“Are you okay?”

She gave a nervous sort of laugh. “No, but what’s new. But Jack. Abigail and I don’t… we aren’t friends but I can’t imagine. And with Sean in town….”

Her lips pressed together as tears began to form in her eyes. “Just breathe. Knowing Dutch, we are about to do things the way your rebels do.” He tried joking.

“When is this madness going to end?” She eventually said after taking a few deep breaths. “This shoot up in town. Whatever the hell happened in Valentine. Blackwater. When I joined this camp, I didn’t do it to be a part of this. All this stress, worrying about what’s going to happen to any of us isn’t good for me and-”

“Come on,” Bill made his appearance again, giving Javier a good hit on the shoulder. “Time to give these bastards hell.”

Giving him a quick nod, he looked back to Molly, apologetic. “We’ll chat once this is done. I promise you this will end.”

He heard mumble “I get promised a lot of things” but Molly O’Shea had to leave his thoughts for now. Jack took priority.

-

Shooting up the Braithwaite’s manor proved fruitless beyond angering a bunch of inbred scum. Jack wasn’t there and by the morning they had Pinkertons on them again. He had known about Arthur getting confronted by them when he had taken Jack out of camp one evening, and the news that Mac had been killed after being interrogated by them hadn’t sat well.

It had taken everything in Javier not to slit both their necks then and there, and he sure as hell wasn’t the only one. He never felt more proud to be a part of the gang when all of them with a collected mind and ready their weapons, obviously unnerving the two agents.

Scaring them off wasn’t enough; they had to move camp fast. Arthur and John were sent off to scout out a new area, a place that Arthur had cleared out with Lenny some time ago, and the rest of them were ordered to pack up as much as they could and as fast as they could.

He barely took a step towards the tent he shared with Charles when a hand grabbed his arm. Looking over his shoulder, he was greeted by Molly, looking worried.

“Can we talk?”

He looked over to his tent, seeing the work before him before looking back to her. “Maybe now isn’t the best time.”

Her eyebrows furrowed deeper and a look of desperation covered her. “Please it’s really important.”

He took a deep breath. “Just give me a moment alright.” She nodded and made her way over to the tree she normally would sit under to read. And in turn, he made his way to the tent hoping that Charles wouldn’t mind packing just a little for him.

With Charles dealt with (and a promise of owing him one) he made his way to Molly who was biting her nails. When their eyes met, she dropped her hand from her mouth and gestured for him to move in closer. With the tree blocking them from most of the eyes in the camp, he realized this was closest they’d ever been. They were close enough that he could have easily counted the multitude of freckles that were scattered all about her face.

His distraction seemed to irritate her, a click of her tongue and his eyes jumped up to meet hers again. 

She seemed apprehensive, taking a moment before talking. “Look, I’m a good girl-”

“I don't think anyone has said differently.” His interruption irritated her even further. Before he could apologize she was on him.

“Oh, I’m not an idiot Mister Escuella. Far from it. I told you already, I know you all talk about me behind my back. I’ve heard things. But I’m as loyal to Dutch as you are.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. What’s wrong.”

Biting her lip, she stalled, seemingly trying to figure out what she needed to say. “I…. well…. It’s something I’ve been hiding.”

It could have been a million things and he tried to not drop to any conclusion. He remained silent, waiting for her to say the first word.

“I… I want to apologize first.” She said after a moment. “I was rude to you when I was angry at Dutch and I made accusations that weren’t true. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you and-”

“I shouldn't have been doing what I did.” He interrupted. “My mama always did warn me about eavesdroppers and I am more sorry than you are. I guess I did it cause I worry. And I care. Seeing how you get treated by him twists my stomach up. And despite myself, I like you.”

“Despite?” She asked, amused. He laughed at that.

“Dutch strikes me as the jealous type. Making friends with you seems like a dangerous play.”

She had laughed at that. It was good to hear that laugh again, and he felt something tug in his chest. But that smile on her face faded and that worrying looking came back.

“Those mean things I said, about you only being nice to me to sleep with me. I only told them to get you to go away. I’m coming to you now cause you're the only person here who I can trust.”

He wanted to ask why not Dutch, but she answered that for him before he could even open his mouth.

“Those Pinkertons? The one with the pockmarked face? He’s confronted me before.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” She hummed. “I tried telling Dutch but he swatted me off like I was annoying him. I couldn't even say a word. They’ve done it a few times now. Once back in Horseshoe. I was in Valentine by myself one day and they found me. I told them to piss off that I knew nothing of the people they were asking about. And they found me again, the other day, while I was out walking. They prattled off some information they knew about me and threatened me.”

She went back to biting on her fingernail again, eyebrows furrowed. She continued after a moment. “They scared me and I took my time getting back to camp after they left me be. What if they followed me back? What if I’m the reason they came here?”

He took a deep sigh. It wasn’t a question he could give a wanted answer to. That of course she didn’t put them in danger and that there was no way they didn't. Cause there was no way they couldn't have. And Dutch along with others in the camp would berate her for the danger she might have put them in. The danger she couldn't have predicted.

“I don’t know and I can’t say no you didn’t.” The answer he gave obviously didn't sit well with her. Molly looked ready to cry. But he was fast to keep adding. “But really it could have happened to any of us! They probably went after you cause they know how close you are to Dutch and wanted to scare you. Don’t let them win.”

“But what-”

“No buts. I won’t tell Dutch or anyone a thing. And if they find out, I got your back.”

She sniffed, wiping away at her tears with her hands. “I don’t know why you're so nice to me.”

The truth was at this point he wasn’t being kind out of some little crush or because he had these ideas of being with her or anything. He just liked her, despite everything. 

“Everybody needs a friend.” Was all he said. He excused himself then, after making sure she’d be okay and went off to pack.

John had come riding back to camp not long after, and they had all made their way out to the location that he had cleared out with Arthur. The ride down had been easy, Lenny had sat next to him telling him about how he had cleared out the old plantation before with Arthur and then they were chatting about stupid jobs that had gone wrong. He found himself forgetting about the trouble they were in for a bit.

The old house was beautiful in a sort of decrepit ‘I’m somewhat glad I won’t be sleeping in there’ sort of way. As he parked the wagon he caught Molly running up to Dutch who was about to ride out with Arthur. She said something and Dutch said something back, he was too far away to hear. But his eyes worked just fine and he saw how defeated Molly looked as she walked away.

His guts had twisted up at that. He wanted nothing more than to drag Dutch off that horse of his and give him a sound beating. All he could think was that if he was lucky enough to have Molly he’d want to listen to her every concern. The fact that she was too scared to even trust Dutch with her encounter with the Pinkertons said enough about what sort of relationship they had and it made him angry.

She wasn't to be seen for most of the unpacking and didn’t make an appearance for most of the day. He had asked Abigail about it when she had come out of the house, her face all blotchy.

“She’s inside. She helped me unpack out of nowhere and we ended up sitting down and talking.” Abigail had said.

“I’m almost surprised. It looked like she had a fight with Dutch before and I know how she gets after that.”

Abigail snorted at that. “We all know. But she tried to comfort me and tell me everything was okay. I got crying and then she got crying too. What a pair of fools we are.”

“Did it help at least?”

She nodded, sniffing a little. “If anything happened to him I don't know what I’ll do.”

“He’ll be fine Abigail,” He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “The world might be cruel, but no one just hurts a little boy.”

His words had proven true as night had fallen and the three men had come riding back into camp with Jack in John’s arms. The joy at Jack’s return was infectious, spreading through the camp at a blinding speed. When he had been asked to play a song, as they all had gathered around the fire, he chose one Mexican song he knew they could somewhat sing along to. 

He could remember evenings back when he was still young and his father, sober, singing Cielito Lindo on his worn-down guitar, as his mother and Estralita would sing along too. It was only right he’d sing it here now with their family together again. As they all sang along sloppily at the chorus, Javier would help but miss Sean’s voice, off-tune as it was. He made his way through song after song after song, only finally being distracted by Molly’s reappearance. He had watched as she chewed Dutch out over something before storming back off into the house. He had finished the last song up and had excused himself.

Inside, he could hear weeping, and in the corner of the main room sat Molly on the floor. Face in her hands.

“Molly?” He asked out tentatively. She had looked up, tear stricken and hiccuped.

“I’m a fool.” She whimpered. His heart broke in two seeing her like that and there was no hesitation as he sat next to her. He hadn’t kept his guitar outside but had brought it in. He placed it against the wall and sat next to her, groaning a little as his knees protested.

“I don’t think you're a fool.”

She sniffled, more tears forming in her eyes. “I am a fool. My days here are numbered and for what? Cause I loved him? Cause I was stupid enough to believe he loved me too?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being in love. Or loving too much.” He pressed his shoulder into her, tempted to put his arm around her.

“I’m a passing fancy. I gave him everything and now no one will have me again.” She sobbed. “I’m a fool.”

He sat there, thinking as she wept softly. In the silence, she spoke up again.

“If I knew love hurt this much, I wouldn’t have done it.”

A sentiment he knew too well. He bit his tongue and took a leap of faith in sharing something he had never shared before.

“I talk about it a lot,” He started, feeling a bit anxious. “About how I left Mexico. That I had killed a man over a woman. I lied.”

That was enough to get her crying to stop. She had just looked up at him, confused.

“The night I got this-” He pointed to where his neck scar was. “I met this man named Guillermo Zapatero. A revolutionary with brilliant ideas. He was charismatic and could talk a priest into sin. The smartest man I had ever known. And we had fallen for each other. I… like women and sometimes a man will catch my fancy, but what I had with Guille was something else. Unadulterated love. He was our leader of sorts and we nearly fell apart when he died.”

Molly kept looking at him, eyes wide. He didn't know if he should have been relieved at her silence or nervous. Still, he continued. “I took it hard. Five glorious months together, and it was the most I had ever been in love. The man who killed him was a Lieutenant Colonel. Guillermo had been captured and Ignacio Santolaria wanted the honours. He ended up being discharged from the military not long after that for some stupid shit. And I bided my time.”

He had never really talked about what had happened, not to anyone and finally saying it made the memories flood back. “I… went to his home late one night and killed every guard by hand with my knife. Butchered every last one of them in my anger and saved Santolaria for last. I entered his room and had him on his knees in a second. He had a woman with him, some poor whore he had paid. I didn’t pay any attention to her. Just him.”

“What happened then?” She whispered, transfixed.

“I got him on his knees and put a knife to his throat. Just like I had been when I met Guillermo. And me being the stupid romantic I was, repeated the lines he had once told me. Told Santolaria if he could hear that outside. The glorious future and how she was singing. Singing for the freedom of Mexico and his death. And how I give it all to her.”

He could remember feeling so alive repeating those words. How sticky the blood from the men he had murdered felt against his skin now that it was drying. How hatred had burned his insides raw. He had revelled in Santolaria's crying and begging. 

“I cut his throat deep and stood there drenched in more than just blood. It had been 3 months since Guille was murdered and I had felt nothing till that point. I remember it hurting so badly. The woman must have escaped and she knew my face. I had doomed myself and my family. Within the week I was gone.”

His mother had pleaded with him not to go, but he had done it for her safety. Estralita had not wept at all, but wished him luck and told him he had to return.

“The reason I’m telling you this cause as in love as I was and as hot as it all burned, I regret what I did.” He confessed. He’d tell around camp that he’d kill again, but that had been another lie. “I hate how much I loved and what I did for it. Love makes us stupid and blind and the worst we could be. But it makes us so alive and brings out our best. I don't know the word in English, but like we become two clashing ideas. But I don’t regret loving Guillermo and what he brought out in me. He made me happy and that’s all that matters now.”

They stared at each other for some time, their shoulders still pressed together. He could have kissed her then, so easily, but there was no way he could. Not after bearing his heart as he had. It felt like hours before Molly spoke up.

“I know I love Dutch. I’m afraid I made a bad choice too.”

“And that’s fine. Whatever happened Molly, I promise you won’t be alone.”

“Not like you were.” She said, saying the bit he couldn’t add.

“Exactly.”

She looked away then, chewing on her lip. Looking down at her hands, she seemed lost in thought though thankfully there were no more tears in her eyes.

“I won’t share with anyone what you told me.” Molly eventually said, barely above a whisper. “As long as you don’t share my secret.”

“The Pinkertons?”

Molly shook her head. Her eyes got glassy again and she was quick to shut them in an attempt to stop more tears from coming. Javier watched her take a few deep breaths as she threw her head back. Eventually, she brought it back down and looked at him.

“Do you promise to keep it to yourself? It’s the only thing I’ll ask of you.”

“Molly,” He began. “If you asked me to, I'd take every star out of the sky for you. Anything you want from me.”

She took a deep breath and Javier readied himself for it. He expected something horrible and found her giving him something so simple.

“I’m pregnant.”

Despite himself, his brain went blank. He blinked at her, unsure as to what to say. Somehow he wasn’t expecting that. In the end, he could only say one thing.

“ _Ay mierda._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a lot to unpack here considering I just shoved a lot in 6k. 
> 
> I never understood Javier just killing a man over a woman as he never seemed the type. I always got the vibe he was lying and it evolved in this story with Guillermo. Bisexual Javier is a thing ok.
> 
> I mention it quickly, but in RDR1 Agustin Allende mentions that Javier's father worked on his uncle's land. There's conflicting lore later on about Allende being poor before joining the Army but since we have so little on Javier's family I just went with what I know about them. 
> 
> Antonio de Santa Anna was a General during the Mexican-American War and is a controversial figure, to say the least. Generally hated, he is also seen as a hero as sorts.
> 
>  _Maldito negreros_ means damned slaveowners.
> 
> Molly being pregnant was a theory that was passed around a bit back in 2018. I loved it immediately cause I apparently really like a tragedy. This fic was originally born out of the want of Javier and Molly, my two favourites, to have a better end to their stories and I meshed the pregnancy theory in for reasons. For those read the day this was originally published (sept 5 2020), the tags are about to change.


	5. Chapter 5

The world had just stopped. Outside he could hear laughter and drunken yelling. There was singing and the sounds indigenous to swamps; low growls of gators and the occasional bird. But in here, in this room in Shady Belle, everything had frozen in time.

They had just stared at each other, Javier with shock written all over his face and Molly looking about ready to cry again. If someone walked in now they’d have a bit of explaining to do.

“Pregnant?” He whispered, having a hard time wrapping his head around it. “How can you be pregnant?”

Her weepy look was replaced quickly by a frown. “Do you honestly not know how babies are made?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Is it… Dutch’s?”

He had never seen a woman so unimpressed with him before. Sure it was a stupid question, but he was checking each box.

“No, it’s Bill Williamson’s. Of course, it’s Dutch’s.” Javier had to bite back on his words when she said that; Bill was still a contender for being Jack’s father even if Abigail was adamant John was.

“Well, does he know then?”

She shook her head, looking away from him and down to her lap. “I… I’ve tried several times to talk to him. I’ve known since Valentine. The day I was there when the Pinkertons stopped me? It was outside the Doctor’s office there. I had my suspicions and I had them confirmed.”

His stomach twisted into knots when he did the quick math. She had to have been keeping this from everyone for at least a month, maybe more. He didn’t really know much about babies. His cousin, Carmena, had a baby back in ‘93 and all he could remember from the few times he had seen her during her pregnancy was that she had been huge. Carmena and her husband, Felipe had a son and within a few short months, she had been made a widow. Felipe had been killed in the ambush that had taken Guillermo and a few others. Any connection he could have had with little Felipe Jr had been quashed by his sole desire for revenge.

“How… much longer till the baby comes then?” He felt like a fool asking all these questions, but with his own lack of knowledge and the fact that he felt like all he could ask was inane questions, he had no choice.

“Five or six months? There’s no real way to tell, but the doctor was sure I’d be having it by the end of January at least.” It was August now. The year would be up before they’d knew it, and there was also the fact that she’d probably start getting big soon too. She must have noticed him looking at her stomach intently cause she took the next moment to clarify. “It’s not that hard to hide a growing belly.”

It was hard to say anything else after that. They sat there together, in silence, for a long time. The chatter outside didn’t stop, and there was now drunken singing. It must have been getting late, which meant at any moment Abigail would probably be coming in with little Jack in tow. Maybe even Arthur who had never been privy to staying up too late past midnight. 

Sitting there in silence gave him plenty of time to think. Suddenly, all her behaviours made sense. The desperation, the anger, the sadness. She had probably been so lost and scared, with no one to turn to. If it had been any other situation, his heart would have been hammering away at the sheer fact that she had trusted him above all else with her secret. But really, all he could feel was a pity for Molly. She never signed up for this, her naivety and idealism had sheltered her from a lot.

There were two choices for her, this he knew. Either Molly would stay here with Dutch, or she’d leave. Option one wasn’t ideal. If Dutch’s affections were already waning, they would finally disappear at the news. But he had faith in him. He knew that despite all his faults, he’d keep Molly around and she’d be trapped. He remembered his own mother, trapped in a loveless marriage with a drunkard for a husband. Caring for him and working herself to try and provide for two hungry mouths. And how, despite her preaching of love and acceptance, seemed relieved at his death when Javier had been fifteen. That was the future for Molly, living with a man who’d screw other women before her while she’d pray for her freedom. And who knew when she’d get it.

Option two, running away. But the world was hard for a single mother, he’d seen it with Abigail. No wedding ring on her finger and a mouth to feed would make a lot of doors close for her. A life of poverty was no life at all.

“What do you want to do?” He asked her, not knowing for which answer he hoped to hear.

There was no hesitation in her as she said, “I want to leave” and he had never respected her more.

She steadied herself before going on, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I know what I need to do. I can’t think about myself and what I want. What I want is to be married to Dutch and live in bliss, but that’s never going to happen. He once told me that marriage was a modern invention used to oppress or some bullshit. What I want isn’t good for the baby. What it needs is something this gang will never offer and I refuse to end up like Abigail.”

It was interesting how someone could have such clarity as to what needed to be done at the drop of a hat. Molly had obviously had her moment some time ago, realizing that her future couldn’t be with the gang. And Javier suddenly had his moment, realizing that Arthur was right, somewhat. Leaving the gang suddenly didn’t seem like such a hard thing to come to terms with.

“I don’t have a lot saved away,” He started to talk, the words pouring out with no thought. “I have about one-hundred dollars stashed away, and I could easily make some more. Stop donating as much and take as many little jobs as I could. There’s always bounties up in Saint-Denis, and I’m sure I’ll get roped into some jobs while we’re here.”

“What are you-”

“We’ll need money,” He interrupted. “Getting out of here won’t be cheap and then we’ll need to find a place for you. I’ll only stay as long as you’ll have me. Maybe I’ll even get a decent job. Before I ran as a bounty hunter I apprenticed for a bit with a carpenter.”

“No.” She whispered, her eyes wide in shock. “You can’t just offer this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…. I can’t…. I don’t understand why.”

“Isn’t kindness for kindness sake enough?”

She scoffed at that. “Of course not. You don't just drop everything-”

“I dropped everything once before to protect my family.” He argued. “Left Mexico in the dead of night and put my faith into an unknown future, trusting they’d be safe. Leaving this isn’t as hard as leaving my family.”

“These people are your family.”

He gave a soft laugh at that, echoing Arthur’s words. “Yeah, but it’s not my home. I’ve stuck around as long as I have cause I was waiting for the day that things change in Mexico so I can go home. The second those borders open to me again, I know I would abandon all this as fast as I could because this is the transition in my life. It’s been four years since I’ve fallen and for all of them, I have just been waiting. Dutch is out of his mind if he thinks I will cross the sea, to go farther from home, just for him.”

She said nothing, so he continued.

“But it’s not only that. You said you had nothing. And I can’t just sit here and let you go off on your own without protection or help. I was raised right Molly, even if I have made stupid choices. And I was raised to help and treat women with respect. I don’t always follow the first rule, but the second one, no hesitation there.”

“You’d help me?” She repeated as though she could barely believe it.

“Of course.”

“What a shame.”

He was obviously confused by that. “A shame?”

Molly nodded, a small smile on her face. “A shame we couldn't have been friends sooner.”

Closing his eyes, he gave a small laugh. Javier could feel now how tired he was, even for the brief moment he kept his eyes shut, they burned like crazy. And sitting here in the room, with the ever present threat of being caught, he knew they’d have to wrap this up fast.

“You have always had my friendship even if we never really talked before.” He assured her. “I may not get along with everyone in camp, but they're all my friends. I’ve always counted you there.”

“You're too kind for your own good.”

“Just loyal to a fault.” He corrected her. “And we should get going before someone catches us. I don’t know how to explain this situation.”

He got up then, feeling his knees protest after sitting so long. Javier was quick to offer his hand to her, which she took just as quickly and he pulled her up with very little effort.

“Thank you, Mister Escuella. I… I think I have to take some time with your offer but know I really appreciate it.” She had smiled then, not a single tear left in her eye. Molly placed one hand over her lower abdomen, and the acknowledgement of her condition made him feel warm for some reason.

“Take your time. And please, call me Javier. I think we’re well past the last name business.”

“Only if you call me Molly.”

He opened his mouth, tempted to utter her name, but it still felt like a line he couldn’t cross. He had never called her by her first name on purpose, the only time he could really think back on him doing it was when he cried out for her during their spat. He closed his mouth sheepishly, which made Molly laugh.

“Ever the gentleman, huh?” She teased. She wished him a good night after that, and Javier watched wistfully as she made her way upstairs.

  
-

_“It looks like a frog.” Javier had joked, poking the little thing softly in the cheek. “Takes after you Carmalita.”_

_Carmena glared at him, a signature of hers, with such force you could feel the temperature drop in the room. His mother had been quick to calm the situation, though really what could she have done. Given birth yesterday, she was still hobbling about like she was still huge. Estralita had made an offhand comment about how her unmentionables must feel like they were on fire, which had earned glares from both mothers and a swift hit when Javier and Estralita had broken out into laughter._

_“Actually it takes after you, Javito. You did get all the ugly features in the family.” She bit back. The hostilities were just for show. Carmena had always been all bark and no bite. It was at this point, Felipe had decided to step in, his soft temper always a good match for Carmena._

_“All babies look ugly, it’s fine. Can we please not do this and wake him up.”_

_The woman had sat around after that, gossiping between the motherly advice Luisa gave to her niece. It had left Felipe and Javier with the baby, the little thing napping away peacefully in his father’s arms._

_“I pray he will grow up to see a free and bountiful Mexico. With all the opportunities he could ever dream to have at his feet.” Felipe had confessed. Javier knew he had been running with the revolutionaries in the area, finding out after the fact it had been Felipe who had patched him up that one night. A doctor was always a good resource when bullets were constantly being thrown your way._

_“We’ll give him that, as long as you promise to keep your head low. Nothing’s worse than not having a father.” He tried hard to keep the bite out of his tone, thinking of good ol’ Hector who had basically been dead to him for the second he decided being sober wasn’t so much fun._

_Felipe had said nothing then and instead had given the baby over to Javier. He had tried to protest it, not knowing the slightest thing about these things and fearing how delicate it was. Barely over 20 and his hands had been soaked with blood far too many times. It didn’t feel right being given something so clean._

_But no matter how hard he protested, Felipe would not back down and eventually, he found himself awkwardly holding the baby in his arms. And once he got over his concerns, he couldn’t help but marvel at how precious the little boy was._

_“Shit, I think I get why women get so baby-crazy now.” He whispered. It was enough to get Felipe to bark out with laughter, which woke up little Junior. And Javier nearly threw the baby back at his father, with the women behind him laughing their heads off._

-

Things had seemed to shift considerably after everything. It wasn’t just Javier. What had happened in Rhodes, and then the consequential kidnapping of Jack, camp didn’t feel quite the same. Not long after settling, Tilly had been kidnapped and brought back dirty and bruised. She had shrugged off any concern, telling him she didn’t need more than one shining knight fretting over her. Karen was beginning to slip, drunk most nights in an ugly way. Kieran had gone missing, then returned like Saint Denis of Paris, with his head in his hands.

And Arthur was gone most days now too. Never actually straying that far from camp, it was rare that Arthur would be gone for more than two days at most, and returned most times with money or game. But not now. In the week they had been settled, Arthur had only come back once for less than two hours before riding off again. It was different then when Javier had done it, his presence really wasn’t as appreciated as Arthur’s. As Dutch’s right-hand man there was a certain sort of power he had over people, but one that he probably wasn’t aware of. Whenever Arthur was in camp, either chatting away with folk or playing an odd game of poker, morale seemed better. And him being gone so much with everything that was going on, it was really taking a hit on people.

It made him feel guilty for not being in the camp often too, but Javier needed to make money. He had a baby to worry about now.

Molly hadn’t approached him since their talk; if she was going to take him up on his offer or not. Things had shifted there too, but not between him and Molly. Dutch had approached him one day, going on about loyalty and faith, and it hadn’t clicked till later when questioned by Mary-Beth about their disappearance at the party, that he and Molly hadn’t been too slick.

He had taken only one chance then to tell her to be a bit more careful, and every time he had been back in camp since then, he felt watched.

He didn’t try anything again till one day when Molly had taken to sitting by the mausoleum and Dutch wasn’t in camp. He had been carefully going up to her, trying not to track too much attention to himself. Javier had found her sitting on a blanket with a book in hand, seemingly engrossed.

He cleared his throat and Molly looked up to him, immediately smiling at him and closing the book. “Well, look who it is.”

“I know right? Been a millennium.” He couldn’t help but smile too. “Just wanted to know if you thought more about what I said?”

Molly nodded, looking down at the book. It looked to be one of those romance novels Mary-Beth always seemed to be reading and it struck him that she would have had to ask to borrow it. Not something she would have normally done, knowing how the girls felt about her and Molly vice versa. It made him happy to know she was at least friendly with Mary-Beth.

“I’ve thought about it a lot.” She eventually said, not looking up. “I tried gathering courage again… to talk to him about it. He just told me off for nagging him. He’s a lost cause.”

Javier nodded, “A shame.”

“The real shame will be him never knowing his child.” She looked up then, fire in her eyes. A sort of determination he had never seen in her before. “Let’s leave.”

His smile grew wider at that. Javier hadn’t realized how much he had wanted her to say yes till that moment. “I still need to sort things together. Get money. Dutch is talking about a bank job and I think we should stay for that.”

Humming at that, she added a new bit of information, “He thinks we should go overseas. To Australia or someplace.”

He couldn’t help but snort at that. Dutch was out of his mind if he thought Javier was going to follow him to Australia of all places. “Well then, I get the money and he decides how we’re getting to Australia, we’ll slip away. Better stockpile things we’ll need to travel. And where we should go.”

“Sounds like a decent enough plan.”

Plans never seemed to work in their favour anymore, so even though Javier felt good about what laid ahead, some worry still nagged at him. It wouldn’t serve Molly any good if he voiced them though. “Arthur cleared out that old church just beyond the old battlefield. None of the Raiders have come back and the people seem to avoid it like the plague. Perhaps?”

She never got to respond, Molly’s eyes darted towards the house and Javier turned to see Miss Grimshaw walking over, the determined little strut she’d do when she needed you. Javier’s mouth went dry just thinking about what sort of trouble he must be in for the Dragon to be marching over.

“Mister Escuella.” He relaxed a little at her tone. Normally, she’d be real quiet first then shriek at you if you were in trouble. But the simple address of his name meant otherwise. “Mister Smith picked up the mail and this one is all in Spanish. I assume it for you.”

She handed the letter over, sliced open neatly. Almost all the mail sent to them was sent through one singular name. Normally, you’d know if you were getting a letter and the name that would be on said letter. If not, then it was Miss Grimshaw who went through it. He hadn’t been expecting one at all.

He took it from her, giving a quick thank you, and ignored the look she gave him and then Molly before walking off. Taking a look at the sender's address, Javier remembered he was expecting a letter, though surprised that Francisco had seemed to swallow his pride enough to do so.

_‘Javier,_

_I’ve thought a lot about our chance meeting, some time ago. I must admit, I was very angry to see you rather than ecstatic to see an old friend. What had happened five years ago and how you angered my mother, still sits with me. However, I do remember the kindness you showed me after my brother’s death, despite your own suffering you must have been going through. I was young then and did not see it._

_I think about what you said to me a lot back then too. At the gathering, we had in Guillermo’s honour. You had told me then that my brother was a brave man cause he did one of the hardest things. Standing up and saying ‘no more’. I didn't believe you then, I thought my brother was an idiot who had died for nothing. That shifted a bit after you had killed Santolaria, the sheer chaos that you had caused and the hope people had for some time before a new man took his place. I still don’t know your reasoning for doing it, but whatever it was, it must have been hard._

_I suppose I should take the wisdom from your words more seriously. You are a man who has lived a multitude of lives and with it learned a great deal. I will not bulge on my want of adventure, however. At home, my mother shelters me and my father grooms me. They think I am here in America becoming more worldly before settling down or whatever bullshit they want to believe. They haven’t changed much since you last saw them. I want your support in what I do, it would mean the world to me. And it would be an extension of Guillermo’s support, as I know you two often thought the same on many things._

_Meet me in the Spanish Quarter of Saint-Denis. There’s a boarding house there that the locals named the Red Rabbit, I’m staying there. I would like to talk to you in person if that’s alright._

_Kindly,_

_Pancho’_

  
He stood still, as he worked his way through the letter. He had been illiterate before Hosea and Bessie’s lessons but was a good enough reader in English now that he could make his way through words with some ease. Spanish, to his dismay, was another story. He had learned to read and write only in English as neither of them knew enough Spanish to help. When faced with his native language, he had to sound out the words, working through it at a snail’s pace. He took so long, that Molly had gotten up and tried reading over his shoulder.

“Quite a lot to say.” She said. “What’s it about?”

He went over the last paragraph again, memorizing what had been written down as Conejo Rojo. “Meeting an old friend in Saint-Denis. Needs something. I’ll uh ride out right away.”

He looked over at her, seeing a disappointed look on her face and realized he had brushed her off. He bit his tongue, trying to think of a way to smooth it over.

“Look, I’ll worry about getting money and things together. You think about what you’re going to need. And where you want to go. We’ll keep talking and figure something out. I promise.”

Molly nodded, mouth still was drawn tight. 

He wasted no time in saddling Boaz up, tucking the letter into his satchel. Bill was on guard at the gate, and he ignored him when the man had asked where he was going. The fewer people knew the better. He could imagine the talking to he’d get later for just randomly meeting up with someone without any sort of support. John and Arthur could always get away with it, but never Javier.

When he had still been new in the gang, he had run into an old revolutionary as well. Gabriel Peralta had been the one to inform him of his mother’s death and sister’s marriage but offered little more. He had escaped to America as well to avoid the firing squad, and hadn’t stuck around long after Javier’s own exodus. Dutch and Hosea had later given him shit for running off from camp to go chatting without telling anyone. It might have been because he hadn’t fully gained their trust or the fact that they were real close to the border with American soldiers about making them nervous, but Javier had always done a check-in after that. Even the trips to Valentine had been approved by Dutch.

It was late afternoon when he made it into the city, feeling that he could choke on the stench of the polluted river. The so-called ‘Spanish Quarter’ was an area Javier had been avoiding on his very few trips to town. It was a small area with a heavy population of Mexican, Columbian and other Latino immigrants that seemed to mix their cultures together into something pretty. A way to keep their memory of home alive. 

Javier always felt a tight sort of sensation in his chest anytime he rode near the area. It wasn’t the poorest section of Saint-Denis but still, poverty clung to it. It was like riding into the outskirts of Escalera and seeing the starving children, worn-down adults, and the little hope there was for their future. It made him sick to his stomach to see such things.

But he ignored the feeling in his stomach and carried on, riding into the area keeping an eye out for the so-called Red Rabbit. He snorted when he saw it, a red building that stated in Spanish and English ‘rooms for rent’. He hitched Boaz just outside, seeing Pancho’s own horse. Stepping inside, he was hit with a soft floral smell and smiled seeing dried roses hung up behind the counter. And on it, little ornaments varying in size of rabbits.

“Ah.” He said aloud. “Now I get it.”

“ _Hello? May I help you?_ ” A woman emerged from one of the doorways, stout and greying. Her Spanish betrayed her as a Southern Mexican, perhaps from Oaxaca. 

He took his hat off instinctively and responded in Spanish. “ _Ma’am, I’m looking for a man staying here. His name is Francisco, he is expecting me._ ”

She nodded and pointed to another doorway, “ _A staircase. He’s right upstairs in 2C. Behave yourself please._ ”  
  
He nodded, promising her no trouble. He could imagine the sort of nonsense that must have sparked her warning. The stairs creaked loudly, and the hallway was narrow, but a straight path to room 2C. He gave a quick rap on the door and was met by Pancho, all dressed up as though he was ready to go out.

“Good, you’re here.” Javier raised an eyebrow at him speaking English. His accent was thicker than Javier’s own which meant he must have learned the language not long ago. “Please, inside.”

“I should congratulate you on learning the language, but I don’t see any white folk you need to talk to.” Javier teased, stepping into the room. It was cozy, with a single bed and a small stove. Not a ton of room, but it was nice. He switched into English quickly, feeling a bit of pride that he could do it so easily now. “Unless you really want to speak English?”

Pancho shrugged, “Might as well. We will be dealing with some _gringos_ later. Still need some practice.”

“Can you tell me why we’re here then?” Javier asked, sitting down on the bed. “You said you wanted to speak in person.”

Pancho rubbed his neck, looking equal parts unsure and embarrassed. “I… need some help. A bounty.”

He sighed at that. Of course, that’s why. Javier had told him to write if he needed help, but he had hoped it would be something different. “Could have mentioned that in the letter.”

“It’s a bit messy. Can I tell you the details?”

“Go for it, Panchito.”

He shot Javier a dirty look at the diminutive but composed himself fast. “It wouldn’t be that hard normally. The usual sort of banker skimming more off the top than usual. However, this man has connections to the mayor and there’s one-hundred and twenty on his head.”

Javier let out a low whistle. “Sure you’re not the only fool looking for this guy then.”

“Yeah, well this is where it gets hard. The-” He waved his hand about, trying to find the right word. “-you know, real stupid bastard, decided that the bayou would be a good place to hide low. And he’s right. Thing is, there’s these things that live in the bayou.”

“Alligators?”

“No,” Pancho said solemnly. “Night Folk.”

Javier cocked his head. “Night Folk? What are they? A gang? Is that why you want me? To help you clear them out cause I run with one?”

“No no no no.” Pancho waved his hands, switching back to Spanish. “ _I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them. They’re these feral people that live in the bayou. They butcher people and do a whole load of ugly things. I nearly got done in by an ambush one day, but my Alonso is fearless and fast. They’re genuinely scary. They’re kind of like the Crawlers we had back home._ ”

Now that sent a shiver up his spine. _Los rastreadores_ had been a bit of an urban legend in the area, sparked by some brutal killings when Javier had been young. They were these folk that waited in the night for long travellers and would string them up by their guts. He had always been sure it had been a story made up by the local mothers to keep their children in line, but it still freaked him out.

“You and I both know the Crawlers were completely made up. How are you sure these ones aren't?”

“ _Because I had a first-hand encounter with them, Javi. And the folk around here are seriously scared of them. You don’t go into the bayou on your own. And you never go at night. Every story comes from somewhere. The Weeping Woman was so children would be careful around water and the Crawlers so kids wouldn’t venture too far from home as it got dark. These people, they’re no learning lesson, they’re very real and with a very good body count_.”

Javier sighed. “ _I’m not in the mood to be wrangling with some crazy kinfucker-_ ”

“ _They’re not like the Murfrees to the North or whatever you’re thinking of. It’s different. Which is why I’m going to need your help._ ”

“ _If they’re this dangerous, how are we sure your man is still alive?_ ”

And that was when Pancho hit him with it. “ _The bounty changed from ‘alive’ to ‘dead’ the second the word got out. We’re collecting a corpse._ ”

One-hundred and twenty dollars for a corpse. Whatever this man had done, it must have been a lot of bad. And suddenly it was a tempting offer. Collecting a corpse was easy enough, even if he had to deal with a fictitious group of murders. “ _I hope you realize if I’m helping, I want half. I need the money right now._ ”

Sixty dollars wouldn’t set him well on his way, but it sure as hell was something. Travelling could become expensive and sixty dollars could buy a train ticket all the way to New Mexico if he was smart.

“ _Course. I won’t ask why._ ” Pancho said, smiling.

“ _I wouldn’t be mad if you did,_ ” Javier responded, groaning a little as he got up from the bed. “ _Shall we go now?_ ”

“ _Now?_ ” A flash of fear appeared on his face before he composed himself. Bless the fool for trying to be brave. “ _They’re called Night Folk for a reason, Javier. They come out at night. And it’s going to get dark soon._ ”

“ _Then we shall be careful,_ ” He gave him a good tap on the shoulder and left the room, knowing well enough that Pancho would follow.

Stepping outside, Javier was met with cooler air and a grey-blue sky as the sun started to set. Despite his confidence in the room, he wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of hunting for a dead body in the dead of night. Especially at night. Alligators and mosquitos weren’t exactly his favourite things in the world.

He watched Pancho get up onto his horse, the aforementioned Alonso, with a nervous air. He gave a soft chuckle before hopping up onto Boaz, “ _Relax Panchito, you’re in real good hands._ ”

“ _Confidence has been the death of better men,_ ” He responded, mouth drawn tight. “ _My pa always said that a man too sure of himself is a fool._ ”

Javier snorted at that. “ _Don’t mistake my ease as confidence. What’s worse is being nervous. Just cause I’m laughing this shit off doesn’t mean I’m not going to be careful._ ”

He clicked his tongue and set off down the street. Saint-Denis was fairly straight forward in the downtown, but these sections of the city twisted like mazes. Soon enough, they made it past the storied buildings and into the outskirts. It was then Javier remembered his regret from their last meeting.

“ _Pancho,_ ” He started, feeling a twist of nerves in his stomach. “ _Are your family still in Punto Orgullo?_ ”

“ _Yes? Mama and Pa still run the goods store. Why?_ ”

“ _I was wondering if you knew what happened to my sister. You never met her, but she got married not long after I left. And after… my mother…._ ” He bit his tongue, feeling a wave of emotion overcome him. He had a hard time talking about his mother. Luisa had died a few months after he had left, succumbed to a bout of cholera that had swept through the area. He wasn’t sure how quickly Estralita had married afterwards as Gabriel hadn’t really known himself.

“ _Hm. I’m not too sure, but if I go back home anytime soon, I can ask your cousin. Carmena Hernandez? She’s still got Felipe’s practice still going. Cesar took over it after Felipe, you know,” Pancho drew a finger across his neck. “She didn’t get remarried and is raising Felipe Jr. on her own. I still talk to her._ ”

It was good to hear that Carmalita was doing good. He had thought about her a lot too. He would never forget her grief at seeing Felipe’s body strung up in town alongside the rest. A strong woman brought to her knees, screaming as though she had been butchered herself. “ _How is little Felipe anyways? The last time I saw him, he was just a baby. I think the last time I was with him I took him for a ride on Guadalupe, he was barely even crawling yet_.”

Pancho laughed at that. “ _I remember that horse. Pretty black thing. I also remember she tried to eat my hair a few times. The little guy is doing good. I don’t really see them a lot so I can’t say much, but he seems to be a handful._ ”

Javier smiled at that. The last time he had seen the kid, he had been a fat little thing that seemed to babble all the time and put anything in his mouth. It was hard to think about him grown, even just a little. It hit him that if Molly wanted him to stick around, he might get to see her own child in that phase. 

They were well out onto the bayou, the expanse of mud and rivulets meant that they’d have to ditch their horses before making their way into the trees. Javier, without care, jumped off Boaz and turned back to look at Felipe, still nervous. “Come on there _muchacho_ the faster we get this bounty the sooner you can go.”

“Javier I’m being serious,” Felipe said as he got off his horse. “ _This is a bad idea._ ”

“ _We’ll be okay,_ ” He said, pulling his guns off Boaz. “ _Come on, we’ll lead our horses to the treeline and make our way into the forest._ ”

“ _So where do you think we should start then?_ ”

Javier had thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t hard to predict the sheltered man’s actions. As he led the horse to the treeline, he told Pancho his train of thought. “ _This man, he’s a city man. Probably been raised with good shoes on his feet and food in his belly. If he’s ever been out into the wilderness, it’d be to hunt but he probably had a guide to help him. One of those social hunting things rich folk do. He’s never lived it rough and he’s never had to spend a night out under the stars. If I was him and desperate enough to take on a maze of trees, I’d try and find a man-made shelter._ ”

“ _There’s abandoned warehouses in the bayou, closer to Rhodes. We’re not far-_ ”

“ _Exactly. He probably doesn’t believe in the Night Folk and took a chance against the wildlife to hide in one of these places. Thinking that maybe he could outrun the folk who believe in superstition._ ” Javier held a hand up, stopping them. He tied Boaz up to one of the trees, loose enough that if he whistled Boaz would be able to break free. Pancho followed suit. “ _I bet you anything, he probably is dead. Can I see the bounty poster?_ ”

He took the sheet that Pancho handed over, and reading through the information saw that the man had been gone for two weeks. “ _Yeah, most likely dead. He wouldn’t be able to keep a low profile if he left the bayou and the bounty hunters would be on him like flies on shit._ ”

Looking into the expanse of trees, Javier definitely felt a sense of dread. He could imagine such horrors as Pancho believed in existing there. But he had also travelled a lot in Mexico with various areas having their own horror stories. And they rarely were true.

“Alright then, Panchito.” He turned to him, pulling out his pistol. “Let’s go.”

They made their way into the brush, careful of each step. The ground was soft and muddy, which made Javier grimace at the thought of having to clean his boots later. They moved slowly, ever conscious of what might be lurking. His worst fear was a cougar (which had been spotted in the area) or an alligator. There were a few run-down shacks they came across in a short time, Pancho being smart enough to bring a lantern which he would light as they checked it out. They had been unlucky and Pancho had extinguished the light once they made it back out into the wild. They had kept their chatter only to a quick discussion on where to next and remained vigilant.

They had come across one big warehouse, not finding anything but animal carcasses when Pancho had thrown him down below one of the beams and extinguished their light. Javier was ready to curse him when Pancho pointed out of the rubble to movement. Very human movement. 

Javier’s blood ran cold as they watched the group of people walk by, painted in some sort of white paint carrying weapons. They were quiet as death, barely making a sound as they walked by. They stayed crouched, waiting till they passed by, and even then when they were long gone. Javier eventually broke the silence with a whisper. “Okay, so maybe the Night Folk are real.”

The look Pancho gave him would have made him laugh under any other circumstance, but right now Javier was well aware of the danger they were in. There were a few more buildings they could check, this he knew. One was close to Shady Belle, which they had been making their way to.

They made their way out of their hiding spot as quietly as possible and not a word was spoken. Javier had instead pointed down to where the next site was and prayed that the body would be there. They tried keeping close to the road while staying in the brush to avoid any riders, but it gave him little comfort. Pancho had told him he had been nearly ambushed on the road. 

It felt like hours before they made it to the warehouse, it was more dilapidated than the last. They didn’t dare light the lantern and entered with not a single word still. It was hard looking around with no light, having to rely on feel. It was when Pancho hissed out with disgust that he knew the body had been found. Javier hurried over, eyes adjusted to the dark enough to see a body. The nice coat betrayed him as their bounty and surprisingly he had been dead for that long. Maybe a day or two. 

Javier got him up onto his shoulder, stifling a groan at the smell. He had always hated how corpses smelled.

“ _The horses are down the road connected her_ e,” Pancho whispered. “ _Let’s get to the road and if anyone says anything we show them the bounty poster._ ”

“ _Sounds good._ ” And with that, they left the warehouse and beelined for the road. There was still an air of unease out in what should have felt safe. They had tried deciding whether or not they should light the lantern again when they both heard something in the trees. It sounded like clicking.

Before either of them could react, a man came rushing out of the trees, brandishing what looked like a machete, his face painted that white he had seen earlier. Pancho had only time to gasp in the time it took Javier to whip out his gun and shoot the man in the face. He went down with a loud thunk and they only took the time to look at each other.

“ _Run now. Keep your gun out._ ” Javier commanded him, and Pancho took his pistol out and went running down the road. 

He wasn’t planning on self-sacrifice, he kept his pistol out and went running behind Pancho, weighed down by the corpse. He could hear footsteps behind him, but he didn't dare slow down to look behind him. He just ran, praying that his legs would keep up. It was only till an arrow went whizzing passed his head that Javier lost composure, stumbling for a moment. And with such weight on his shoulder, he fell onto the dirt path. He only had time to scramble, grabbing his gun before another one of the Night Folk was on him. The thing jumped on him and Javier tried holding off the blade he tried to slit his throat with.

And then the man went slumped at the sound of a bullet. Javier, somehow composed, looked to see Pancho riding up with their horses, gun brandished in hand.

“ _Good shot kid._ ” He cried out, throwing the body off him. Pancho said nothing, but gave a grim smile before grabbing their bounty and threw it up onto Alonso. They could hear more rustling in the brush and wasted no time getting onto their horses once again and riding off.

There were sounds of arrows being shot and some of that weird clicking and whistling, but they rode fast and out into the stretch of mud and rivulets once again. It wasn’t until they were clear of the forest completely did they stop, both trying to catch their breath.

“ _That was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done._ ” Pancho laughed, looking pale.

“ _You know I’m starting to think the Crawlers might have been a real thing after all._ ”

They could help but look at each other and laugh maniacally. His stomach was aching by the time they were able to compose themselves again, with tears streaming down Pancho’s face. They were a mess for sure, both covered in sweat and mud, and Javier in a fair bit of blood.

They rode in silence, Javier himself having a hard time thinking about how he could just start talking after everything. It was Pancho who ended up breaking the silence, with a question that could have been asked so much earlier.

“ _So, why do you need the money?_ ”

He opened his mouth, ready to give the truth when it struck him that this was the first time he could actually go into depth about the catalyst for it. For months, he had been harbouring feelings for Molly without a single soul to tell, letting it smoulder away. And while yes, Francisco was the younger brother of a once lover, he hadn’t known about it till afterwards. He doubted it would seem like betrayal in his eyes.

“ _There’s… this lady back in camp. Molly. I’m very sweet on her, but she’s with our leader. Things have been bad between them and she found out she’s pregnant. So, I’m leaving the gang and going to take care of her._ ”

Pancho looked at him, a sort of awe on his face. “ _You say that as though it’s the easiest thing to do. If you're still the man I remember betraying them must be hard_.”

“ _It isn’t betrayal_ ,” He argued. “ _I’m making a decision between what is right and wrong. Leaving Molly to defend herself out there is wrong, especially when I have the choice to protect her. Loyalty be damned._ ”

“ _That doesn’t sound like you though? The man I knew-_ ”

“ _The man you know watched a lot of good people die because he thought remaining loyal to a cause was more important. I ran when Guille told me to, watching as he sacrificed himself. If there is anything I ever learned from him it was that in the end, all we have is love. And she may not love me back or ever will, but I will cast aside my values if it means her happiness._ ”

He felt his hands shake and his breath laboured. It was hard for Javier to truly say how he felt, he could preach about freedom and passions, but when he really felt something he couldn’t articulate it. It was almost like a physical pain.

“ _I guess your loyalty isn’t bound to what you think it is,_ ” Pancho replied, giving him a wink before setting Alonso into a steady gallop. All Javier could do was follow after him, mulling on those words.

They made it into Saint-Denis well into the night. The city was alive even at this hour; as they passed by the various bars on their way to the police station he could hear loud singing and cheering, reminding him of nights in camp.

Javier waited outside of the station as Pancho went in, not wanting to risk getting recognized. He wasn't bound to be up on the bounty board, with others being more noteworthy but he really didn’t feel like pushing his luck tonight. Pancho eventually came out, a grin on his face with a money clip.

“ _All for you,_ ” He said, handing it over. “ _Javier. I hate to admit this, but you are right. I have a home and I have no reason to do this other than I want to. I think almost being Night Folk food tonight really put that into perspective._ ”

Javier was shocked, “ _I can’t take your mon-_ ”

“ _Yes you can and you will. And you are going to take this as well._ ” Pacho shoved the money into his hands before bringing his hands to his neck, folding with something. Beneath his collar, he caught a glimpse of something gold. After a moment, he brought his hand down to show a gold necklace in his grasp.

“ _This was given to Guillermo for his first communion_.” He slipped it into Javier’s hands who stared at it like he was seeing a ghost. He could remember Guillermo always wearing it, the little gold cross showing the crucifixion. “ _Be_ fore he was buried, I was given the necklace as a keepsake. But it hasn’t brought me much comfort. What I loved about him was the memory I have. Besides, I keep his copy of the Communist Manifesto with me and that feels more Guille than some cross.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, feeling an overwhelming sense of longing. He had left Mexico with nothing but memories and the ghost of what they had haunting him. All of it had been tainted by his revenge, but holding something that had been physically connected to him brought everything back again, without baggage. He could remember playing with it one night as they laid together in bed, not after sex but at the end of a long day. The simple intimacy they had had always made his insides melt. And he found himself tearing up.

“ _Thank you._ ” He said, trying to keep himself together. “ _For all this. You know, Francisco, you remind me of the best of him. He loved you so much, he was always so proud of you. Seeing the man you’ve become, Guillermo would have been proud._ ”

Pancho nodded, tears in his eyes as well, “I wish you the best of luck Javi. I hope you and this Molly girl make it somewhere safe. I’m going to stay in Saint-Denis for a while longer and maybe I’ll head off to California. My aunt lives there. What I'm getting at, please write to me. And when I get home, I’ll do everything I can to find your sister.”

He had pulled Pancho into a hug at that which was reciprocated with zeal. He nearly wheezed at how hard the kid could squeeze.

Instead of riding straight back to camp and ever conscious of how much he must stink, Javier made his way to the fine saloon near the city centre. The bartender gave him an odd look at asking for a bath but gave it to him anyways. Alone in the well-furnished bathroom and soaking in the warm tub, he played with the necklace given to him.

( _“Go. Run.” Guillermo pulled down his bandana, sweat having gathered along his lip. “Get out of here and protect the others. Protect yourself.”_

_“And yourself? What are you going to do?” They were on borrowed time, military men would soon be down on them._

_“I’m going to do what is right.” He said with a strained smile. “And if all goes well, I'll see you at the end of this.”_

_He hadn’t given Javier a chance to plead before he went running out into the open. He had watched as Guillermo lifted his gun into the air and shot off three rounds. Turning around and running had been the hardest thing he had to do._ )

He brought the necklace up to his lips, giving it a kiss, and feeling a deep sense of loss. And purpose.

“You wanted me to live for a reason,” He whispered to it, hoping that maybe this could count as a prayer to be sent heaven-bound. “I’m not going to waste that gift anymore. I promise.”

With one-hundred and twenty more to his name, and the promise of a bank job on the horizon, Javier felt optimistic for the first time since Blackwater. Filled with a purpose without a doubt. And it was freeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience, this ended up being a way bigger chapter than I expect. But now you guys are going to start seeing the actual canon divergence.
> 
> Hopefully, I won't wait 2 months to post the next chapter lol


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a 9k beast and major spoilers for mission #57 "Banking, The Old American Art"

Dutch cornered him and Javier half expected another lecture for disappearing as he had. Bill, the right bastard he was, had gone to Dutch after Javier had ignored his question on where he was going. And that meant he had been waiting for him to return to camp. Javier, cleaned up and tired, had returned in the early hours and gotten a chewing out so bad that he had been tempted to tell Dutch to stuff it. That of course hadn’t happened and Javier had just mumbled a sorry.

He had given him the excuse of meeting with an old friend, which prompted another bout of ‘endangering the camp’. He had left out the part about bounties and getaways. In the end, Dutch had given him a weary look and clamped him over the shoulder with another signature speech about strength and sticking together. It amazed Javier how in the course of only a few days he had grown to absolutely despise the words that came out of Dutch’s mouth. Knowing the underlying issues with Molly was probably what had done it for him. But he grinned and bore it, and was left to his own devices.

He was further helped by the job gone wrong in Saint-Denis, which had resulted in Arthur in a mood so foul he had refused to come back to camp and Dutch out of commission with a head injury. 

So when Dutch had cornered him and asked him “Have you seen Arthur?” He hadn’t been too surprised. He had maneuvered himself in a way that made it near impossible for Javier to walk away, maybe sensing that he would try to do that after their last talk.

“What? No hello?” He tried joking, but Dutch was obviously in no mood.

“Son, I need Arthur back in camp and he’s not here. You know the drill.” Just as Javier tried to move away, Dutch put a hand to his shoulder, keeping him in place. “How are you holding up?”

That was enough to make Javier pause. Dutch had never really gone too out of his way to really ask how he was doing. The last time he could remember even talking to Dutch in a semi-friendly one-to-one was way back at Horseshoe. And he had been told there was no other option than to be strong.

“Staying strong.” He quoted, forcing a smile to his face. 

He seemed happy with the answer, nodding and looking approvingly at Javier. “That’s what I like to hear. Faith and loyalty are what’s going to pull us through this nonsense. I promise you everything is going to go well.”

“And the bank job? The one I heard you planning?”

Normally, Javier wouldn’t even attempt to ask about some up-and-coming scheme unless it was brought to him first. Dutch had once gotten upset with him over it when he was still new and very eager. Told him that impatience was rude. But the only reason he asked as he and Molly had set that as their deadline. In the days’ Dutch had been recuperating, they had taken it to discuss in hushed voice what their plan was going to be. And no matter where they landed, they both had agreed the more money they had the better.

So, he was very interested in this new job.

“I’ll let you know when I know for certain. But that requires Arthur back here.”

It was then Dutch moved out of the way, allowing Javier to walk forward. He gave an exaggerated tip of his hat and made his way quickly to where the horses had been hitched up.

He wasted no time saddling up and riding out of camp, giving a quick nod to Sadie who was on guard duty on the way out. As Dutch had said, he knew the drill. Arthur in the past would disappear for a few days, caught up in some job or hunting or wrapped up in the affairs of some stranger. It was always fun to ride up and see exactly what the man had gotten himself into. The last had been months back, way before Blackwater when he had found Arthur trying to catch a wild horse. He had stayed with him till he had gotten the thing tamed, learning a thing or two from him. The poor horse had been the one that had been killed at Blackwater, poor Boadicea.

Tracking Arthur down turned out to be as easy as ever. According to the general store owner, who had a little talk with Arthur as he had bought some supplies, he was going to be out near Emerald Ranch. He had taken a parcel out for the owner who had been having trouble getting someone to deliver a package out that way thanks to Lemonye Raiders killing several postmen along the border. Any government official, even the lowest on the pole were always in danger of the Raiders and it had made things hard for Rhodes of late.

Sure enough, as Javier had followed his way out towards where the Heartlands and Scarlett Meadows joined, he found a slew of Raiders slaughtered along the road. A deputy from Valentine and another from Rhodes were at the scene arguing about whose jurisdiction it was. He had taken a wide berth of them, not in the mood to be recognized and having to kill lawmen today.

When he had arrived at the Ranch, it took very little questioning to find the person who had received the parcel and then found out where he had gone.

“There’s a photographer out in the Overflow,” The woman had told him. “Been trying to take photos of the horses out there for days. When I told your friend that, he had hopped back up on his horse and thanked me. Never even took payment for the parcel.”

Following the woman’s words (with the payment in his bag to give to Arthur), he went out to where the Heartland’s Overflow was, barely a ten-minute ride. The sun was starting to dip low, casting warm orange hues across the expanse of water. Javier found himself in awe. He had rarely come out this way, often beelined for Valentine, and was amazed at the sheer beauty before him. His focus turned away from the landscape to the two figures standing in the incredibly shallow waters.

Javier recognized Arthur right away with the tall, broad stature of his and signature hat. But the man beside him was one he didn’t recognize at all. 

He got off Boaz right near where Arthur and this stranger’s horses were left and made his way over. Neither seemed to realize that he was there and took it as an opportunity.

“There you are, friend.” He called out, startling Arthur. Instead of going for his gun, he placed himself quickly before the other man. One he did not recognize, though judging by the silk vest and boater hat, he was no outlaw.

“Jesus Javier!” Arthur cursed. “You couldn’t have given me more warning?”

“Nah, I like seeing you jump. Dutch sent me to pick you up.” Though he was very well aware that he was only meant to come out this way to grab Arthur, curiosity picked at him like an itch. “Who’s this?”

Arthur looked over his shoulder to the stranger. Now with a better chance to inspect, Javier looked over the man. He was well-groomed in a way he could genuinely respect. Silk waistcoat, cream pants and a fancy little boater hat on top of his head, this man was definitely a city boy dressing up to pretend to be an outdoorsman. But his dirty hands said that he wasn’t afraid of hard work. He doubted that Arthur was using him for something or trying to make a buck off him. The way they had been standing together and the way Arthur had given at him said that they were friendly. So that meant Javier had to be friendly too.

“Albert Mason, a pleasure I am sure.” The man, Albert, greeted, a wary look exchanged between him and Arthur. He didn’t reach forward to try and shake his hand or nothing. Just halfway lingering behind Arthur.

“Javier Escuella, I’m friends with Arthur here.” He flashed him a quick smile, but that wary look didn’t leave. He turned his attention to Arthur instead. “I take it he’s the reason you’ve been gone from camp for so long and so often?”

He’d always been a private man, it was one of the first things he had learned about him, but this caginess was a new part of the Arthur Morgan Package that coupled with a ‘lack of faith’. And his reaction to the question suddenly answered all of the weird behaviours the past weeks.

“Maybe.” He replied curtly. “Why does Dutch need me?”

He took a step forward which Arthur copied and in a hushed tone told him, “The bank job. Dutch needs you back to discuss it. Suppose it’s really going through.”

Arthur gave a groan at that and replied without care of Albert hearing. “I ain’t riding all the way back right now so I can hear Hosea and Dutch argue about it again. It'll be past midnight by the time we get back.”

Albert spoke up then, clearing his throat a little. “I have a room back in Valentine. Perhaps I can treat you two to some dinner at the saloon and you two can make your way back tomorrow morning?”

Arthur grimaced at that and for good reason. His face was sure to be recognized back at Valentine. People wouldn't have forgotten about the shootout after only a month and a bit. “I don’t know I made a bit of a mess the last time I was there-”

“I know, but I doubt Sheriff Malloy actually cares. And no one really knows why that shoot-out happened considering it was all mercenaries that were involved. You can argue innocence if anyone gets uppity.”

“Argue my innocence sounds like something I’d do from behind iron bars.”

The quick banter between them suggested that this was a common thing between them and not new. Javier raised an eyebrow at Arthur, curious to just how long this partnership had been going on.

Javier had to agree with both Arthur and Albert however. It had taken him the better part of the afternoon just to ride out this way, but the time they made it back it would be way too late. And after everything that had happened with the Night Folk, Javier was still wary of riding at night. 

So, after handing off the payment from the lady, he had no complaints following them down to the livestock town, watching them with a studying eye. Arthur was completely relaxed around this man, chatting idly as though Albert was a lifelong friend. If he had been the sociable type, Javier would have written it off, but Arthur wasn’t. He was wary around strangers and even with others in the camp, he could be incredibly impersonal. But something about Albert brought out something in him, which really made Javier curious.

True to Albert’s word, not many people gave a second look at Arthur as they rode through to the main street. Javier on the other hand got recognized a few things by some of the Mexican workers he had spent nights drinking with during that ‘avoid Molly’ stint a few weeks back. It had been Arthur’s turn then to look at him with a cocked eyebrow but he had been fast to wave it off. There was no way he was willing to explain everything that had happened during that time.

They had settled into the saloon, picking a table to the edge of the wall. Arthur and Javier agreed that after this they wouldn’t settle at the hotel, but rather camp out under the stars. It was August proper now which meant that the nights wouldn’t be too cool and they’d have a good view of the stars. He had enjoyed camping out with Arthur back when he had first begun to speak English. There had been several women who had ridden alongside him during the Revolts, one of them, Maria Del Mar owned a map of the stars which she had shown and educated Javier on. He had used what he remembered to enthrall Arthur one night which made him look forward to tonight, knowing it would still enthrall him.

Dinner was simple and Javier kept to superficial topics. Albert, on learning he was not only from Mexico but had travelled plenty before leaving, had grilled him on anything knowledge he had of the flora and fauna he had encountered. He had learned quickly that Albert was an amateur naturalist with a keen interest in conservatism. His photography was linked to it, a way of educating the masses. And that he was planning on going to California in the near future; to Yosemite National Park.

“It was Walt Whitman who first sparked a flame within me, though I had been completely unaware of where it would lead me.” Albert had told him, smiling brightly. “I read _Leaves of Grass_ over and over again till the binding broke. Instead of buying a new version of it, a family member of mine gifted me Thoreau’s _Walden_ which then led to Emerson which led to John Muir. I’ve always had a fascination for nature and it is that fascination which leads me to want to preserve it before it’s wiped out.”

“Sounds like a noble cause,” Javier had noted, genuinely impressed. If possible, Albert seemed to glow.

“Not all would say that I am afraid to remark. But here’s hoping I can change some minds and hearts with my exhibition. I will release my project of West Elizabeth in Saint-Denis and then move onward to California. I’ve never been more excited for a several day train ride!”

By the end, Javier could see the appeal of Albert. A completely earnest and agreeable man. Arthur had hung onto every word the man had shared (and there had been many words) with a sort of starstruck look. It was almost enough to make Javier laugh.

Arthur ended up walking Albert back to the hotel and Javier had taken their camping things just out of Valentine, just beyond the stable. The campfire was well and going by the time Arthur came riding up.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’ve settled on this horse for as long as you have.” Javier began to tease as Arthur hitched the horse next to Boaz. “I swear when we first settled at Horseshoe, you were coming back with a new horse every few days.”

“It was hard settling on one.” He replied. “Boadicea was one in a million, it was hard replacing her.”

“I bet.” 

Arthur took his time setting up his own bit; throwing his sleeping sack into the tent Javier had set up. As he settled down next to the fire he gave a groan with a big stretch.

“Wrangling them wild horses today ended up being such a hassle. I’m sure the photo will turn out amazing, but Jesus I hope the rich folk seeing them one day will have some inklin’ to the amount of effort that went into them.”

Javier hummed, turning his eyes from the flames to Arthur, staring critically. “Sure. How… how long have you been helping Mister Mason? You two seem… close?”

Arthur stiffened at that, looking over to Javier like a cornered dog. “Why does it matter?”

“It’s just a question.”

Arthur stared at him for a moment longer before relaxing his shoulders a bit. “Back after we rescued Sean. I had gone back into the area for whatever reason and I had met Al- Mister Mason trying to set a shot. We sort of talked and I helped him rescue his bag from a hungry coyote. He had meat in the bag to use as bait.” Sounded on parr for Arthur. Stopping to help. 

“I met him again while I was procrastinatin' saving Micah from the gallows,” Arthur continued. “Wolves this time. Nearly got himself eaten.”

“He seems trouble-prone.”

“Yeah.” Arthur turned his gaze to the fire, something almost tender in his expression. “We’ve met plenty of times since then. Been in Saint-Denis for the most part. He’s working there part-time to make money for his expeditions. We get lunch or just go walking. It’s a break from everything.”

“A break from the gang you mean?” Arthur gave him a look like he was expecting a scolding, but Javier was quick to put him to ease. “I get it! I was barely around at Clemens for the same reason.”

“No you weren’t,” Arthur argued, a smile on his face. “You were gone all the time cause Molly humiliated you in front of everyone. Pride and vanity have always been your downfalls, but you're now clinging to her like a lost puppy again.”

Javier opened his mouth to defend himself, but really he didn’t have a foot to stand on. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Almost as complicated as your Albert situation.”

They stared at each other in near silence, the sound of the crackling fire the only thing to fill the quiet. Javier made no plans to say anything, just to see if Arthur would crack. And crack he did.

“What Albert means is none of your business.” Got him. The way Arthur blushed said everything that Javier had been suspecting. He was sweet on Albert. He would of never pegged Arthur as the type, but in the end, it wasn't that much of a surprise.

“But what Molly means might be yours.” He said, not elaborating.

That was enough to make Arthur look confused. To be honest, Javier had been thinking about telling Arthur for some time. Not the pregnancy part, but the leaving part. He knew that he would support him, as much as he protested he wasn’t a good man he was in the ways that mattered. 

“I’m leaving,” Javier said matter-of-factly. “Molly and me. She wants to get out and can’t do it on her own so I’m going to help her.”

Arthur stared at him in stunned silence, mouth popping open. “You know even though I hinted at it before, I never actually thought you’d ever leave on your own.”

“Things can I suppose.”

Arthur looked at him for a bit longer, something so obviously perched on the tip of this tongue. Javier was sure that Arthur was making a quick assessment if it was a smart idea to say anything.

“Albert asked me to join him in California. And I’m havin’ a hard time saying no.” He eventually confessed. “I’m trying to talk Hosea into coming along. It’ll be good for his lungs you know. Once I get Hosea on board, we can gang up on Dutch and get him to agree. Make sure the rest are safe of course before we go.”

Javier snorted at that. “Dutch has his heart set on Tahiti. Or Australia. Or whatever country he decides tomorrow.”

Arthur looked away mournfully at that. “I don’t like havin’ to choose between what I want and what is expected of me. I want California and Albert and Hosea. And Dutch of course. But that’s not what they’re wanting of me.”

“Then you do what makes you happy,” Javier argued. “Hold on till the end of this bank job. Do this one last duty for the gang and go. No one will blame you and if they do then their opinion doesn’t matter. Bring up Bessie to Hosea and how she had always wanted to settle in California. You know she wanted to. That might be enough to sway him.”

“Would you come to California then?” Arthur asked. “You and Molly? We'd settled in San Jose or San Francisco. That’s not insanely far from the Mexico border.”

Molly and he had discussed where they would land, or rather where he would take her and help her settle into her own, but never once had he thought of California. For some reason, that road had been blocked off in his mind after all their failed attempts to settle there before. But it made sense. Made more sense than New Mexico, which was where they were originally thinking. He would have to talk to Molly about it of course, but in a moment he was sold.

“Arthur, I’d be more than happy to follow you out there.” He said, smiling. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. But what about John?” He hadn't mentioned John before which had struck Javier as odd. John would love to travel out West before going down South as he had always dreamed and gone on about.

Arthur sighed at that. “John I’ve been talking to about leaving. He and Abigail were talking on it before I even brought it up. Everything that happened to Jack has finally made the fool open his eyes and see what's important and thank whatever God for that. I’ll make sure John stays safe till the end of this next job. I don’t think Dutch can really complain on us going our separate ways, I mean it’ll make it easier for him and the others that want to go.”

“He’ll definitely throw a fuss,” Javier complained. “You know he will. Molly and me are going to leave as quietly as we can without him knowing cause you know he will throw a fit.”

Arthur guffawed at that. “I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, but yeah. I’m sure after you slip, we’ll get the biggest lecture on faith and loyalty ever.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh at that too. He could almost hear the speech in his head, having heard similar ones over the last few years.

“Well, I apologize in advance then.”

  
-

Dutch barely said thank you as they rode in the next morning. He immediately grabbed Arthur and dragged him away to talk about some sort of preparation mission before they could hit the bank and that’s all Javier was left with.

There was something off about Dutch. Javier hadn’t really noticed it before, but he was starting to notice it now. A sort of erraticness to him that wasn’t there before. He assumed he was finally on the verge of a breakdown, brought on by all the stress. He had brought it up to Hosea almost immediately after watching Arthur being dragged away, but the concern was brushed off.

“I’ll keep him in check, don't you worry.” Hosea had told him, paper in hand. “Remember how skittish he was leading up to the ferry job? He’s got more to worry about now. Once this is over, he’ll be all fine again.”

Not content with the answer, he went off to find Molly.

Finding her wasn’t hard. The house was nearly empty, and Molly had taken to staying in the room adjacent to the big bedroom she and Dutch shared. He had expected her to be alone but was almost shocked to hear two voices. It didn’t take much snooping to realize it was Abigail. The walls were thin enough he could make out their conversation easy enough, but whatever it was it had been at its end. He only heard Abigail tell her to ‘stay strong’ and her footsteps towards the door. Abigail was nearly bugged-eyed seeing Javier right out the door.

“Wasn’t eavesdropping, I just showed.” He explained throwing his hands up.

Abigail gave him a once over, a little frown on her face. “I thought you were Dutch for a second.”

“He’s gone somewhere with Arthur.”

She hummed and gave a look back through the door to Molly who was sitting on the old sofa. “You keep what I said in mind, okay?” And then she made her way down the stairs.

“Javier,” Molly stood up, looking at him expectantly. “Been out on another job?”

“No,” He replied, closing the door behind him. “Went to go pick up Arthur. Turns out he’s thinking about leaving himself. Asked if California sounded nice to us.”

She grimaced for a moment. “You told him?”

“We need a few allies. And honestly, Arthur is the best person to have in on this. He won’t interfere with anything, just probably help us get out when the time comes.” He sat down onto the couch, noting how rock hard it was. “Everything is okay with you? Abigail seems to be friendly with you of late.”

Molly nodded, mouth drawn tight. She took a moment before sitting next to him, her movements stiff. “She suspects something, I know it. Been asking how I’ve been feeling and how things are going with Dutch. Before when I tried confiding in her she told me Dutch didn’t love me and basically wrote me off. Her being nosy now has me… worried.”

“Abigail wouldn’t be the type to snitch.” It was the truth. Abigail’s main concerns had always been Jack rather than drama and loyalty. “She probably is concerned about you.”

“It's still is making me nervous.” She said, leaning in. “The closer we get the more I worry.”

“Have faith in me,” Javier said. “I’ll keep you safe no matter what happens. If we get caught trying to leave we’ll leave it at that. I can talk my way out of it and honestly who’s going to stop us. No one needs to know about the other part.”

She nodded, looking a little relieved. Placing a hand over her belly, she gave a little sigh. “It’s nice having someone take my worries seriously for once.”

Ouch. He now knew that Molly had tried talking to other folk about her concerns over Dutch’s fading affections for her only to be written off several times. He hadn't witnessed most of it as it had been mostly during their time in Clemens, which made him feel even more guilty for being gone so often. He was now past the point of being angry on her behalf and settled more into pity.

“Here’s hoping you won’t have too many worries for too much longer. I stashed a bit more money away before my errand.” They had one-thousand and twenty dollars tucked away now. The riverboat job had landed him a hefty seven-hundred dollars, which he had nearly fainted at. Molly had gone ghostly white when he had told her. It was enough to buy some land and a house, even out in West. “How does California sound to you then? Somewhere you’d want to go?”

She nodded. “I hear it’s beautiful. And the winters aren't that cold.”

He gave a laugh at that. “Anywhere that doesn’t have snow sounds good to me. Though I suppose I won’t be around for that long.”

That was another part of their agreement, much to his dismay. He’d only be around for as long as Molly wanted him. He suspected that once his usefulness was up, she’d give him leave and he’d make his way down to the border. There was talk of a new governor taking seat in Nuevo Paraíso with promises of wiping away the remaining bounties of those who had taken part in revolts in the late '80s and early '90s. A popular promise according to the papers he had read. That alongside promises for the working-class and political unrest in the nation's capital meant that Javier could finally see himself going home after five-long years away and hopefully to a better Mexico.

Molly made no comment to this, just tightly pursing her lips together. “So I guess I’m being left with Arthur then.”

“Hey, at least you two could pretend to be half-siblings or something. His family is from over there, I think.”

He had to bite back a laugh at her completely unamused expression. “You're the worst.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” He said, giving a quick flash of teeth. It was enough to get her to smile back too. And that had been enough for him.

They didn’t talk much about their plans after that. Arthur had come back later in the evening, looking waterlogged, muddy and tired. He had told Javier in short words the errand Dutch had signed him up for and the plan to assault the Bronte manor to get the Italian mobster out of the way.

A plan Javier wasn’t in on.

He had only taken enough time to tell Arthur that he had gotten Molly to agree to go to California (and learn Arthur’s mother was Welsh so he was right on the Old Europe bit), before going off to find Dutch. A sort of anger swelled in him at once again being left out of a mission. He had nearly boiled when he had been excluded from the Mayor’s party and they had invited Bill of all people. Javier, who had actually known how to talk and dress, had been sidelined for Bill _Goddamn_ Williamson for a formal dress party. 

He was not surprised to find Dutch upstairs in his room, but the door was closed. Javier would have knocked if he didn’t hear the heated argument through the walls.

“-what you want of me, woman, is too damn much.” Dutch had hissed. He could make out the indigent little huff from Molly and the sound of her footsteps pacing around the room.

“All I ask for is what you’ve always promised me. Your love! You’ve denied me marriage since it doesn’t fit into your ideals-” The vitriol to which she said those words sent a shiver down his spine, “-and now you expect me to just lie on my back for you and be all fine and dandy. With you treating me the way you do. I’m not a whore, Dutch van der Linde. I won’t be treated as one.”

“I have treated you justly, you’ve decided now things aren't going the way you wanted so you're taking it out on me. I am doing the best I can. I have a gang to worry about. People who depend on me. People whose lives depend on me. But no, no. Let me drop all that for Miss O’Shea.”

“I am asking for you to treat me with dignity and respect. How is that not even the bare minimum for you!” 

He felt lead-footed, unable to tear away from what he was hearing. He had heard their fights before. Everyone had heard their fights. But backstory and Molly’s own word on everything had made this more angering than it had been in the past. Javier had been so wrapped up in this emotion he hadn’t noticed Abigail come up the stairs, and didn’t notice till she put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. All she did was give him a look, one he understood completely.

It said ‘this is terrible but you can’t do anything about it’. He wanted to argue that he could easily march in there and sock Dutch in the face, but Abigail instead jerked her head to the back to the stairs. She went back down them without a word or glance, but Javier knew to follow. And followed he did as Dutch and Molly kept arguing away. 

She led him outside, out into the muggy swamp air. She walked out the ways, past the graves and to the little fishing hut on the water. It wasn’t until he was on the dock that he finally spoke.

“You can’t judge me for listening. That was upsetting at best.” He said, walking to the end of the dock and leaning on the rails. Abigail followed suit and sat down on one of the boxes. “Cause that was upsetting to hear. I was going for Dutch w-”

“Don't care what you were doing. And yeah, I agree.” Abigail sighed. “Look, I’m not going to pretend we’re best of friends, cause we ain’t, but I am worried about Molly. All the girls are. She’s weepy most days and other days distant. The fighting is getting worse and she seems to be gravitating to you more and more.”

“You two might not be friends, but I consider myself-”

“You’re friendly with all the girls. I don’t care about that. I just want to know if she’s alright and what’s going on.” He’d have to give Abigail credit where it was due, she always spoke plainly. There were no tricks when she spoke, you got what was said and for that, he was always grateful. “Are you two… you know?”

He knew exactly what she meant, and God helped him, he got flustered. “Shit no! I mean if she was a free woman, maybe? I-I ain’t saying anything on that. Molly’s just a friend and I’m trying to be kind, that’s all.”

Abigail sighed again and looked up at him with a knowing gaze. “Not everyone has picked up on it, Dutch included, which you should be thankful for, but sometimes it’s obvious how sweet you are on her. Are you hoping things are going to break off? That you can sneak in.”

The thought had never come to mind, honestly. He had just assumed he’d never have a chance with Molly and he’d spend the rest of his life pining after her. That she’d always have a bit of his heart even as the years dragged on. If he had been hoping for what Abigail implied, he would have been offended at the suggestion, but he just cooly said, “No. Of course not.”

“But you love her.”

Javier sighed softly, almost unsure of how he could answer. At least in English. “Did you know in Spanish there are two ways to say I love you? _Te quiero y te amo_. _Te queiro_ is when you want something when you feel desire. It can be for food or a person. You tell your mama or your friend _te quiero_ or you tell your sweetheart of a few months that. But when you're really in love with someone, when you know that they’re the one, you use _te amo._ ”

Abigail looked up at him, expectantly, so he continued.

“I’d tell Molly _te quiero_ cause I do love her but it’s not like that. I want her and I care for her. In English, I’d say I love you to her, but right now I can’t say _te amo_. Not yet. Not ever with how things are going. She’d have to feel the same way about me if I was to ever do that.”

“You were always a romantic.”

He gave a laugh at that. “Besides, you're assuming Molly would want to be with me. I’m not Dutch. I can’t speak finely like him. I can barely read and write. I come from peasants and I have nothing to my name other than a bounty worth more than what I have in my pockets. Molly deserves someone her equal. Someone who could take care of her like she wants.”

“Well according to her all she wants is dignity and respect.” Abigail pointed out, swatting a fly away from her quickly. “You seem more than ready.”

“That’s the basic thing she wants. Abigail, why would Molly want to be with me? In what world would that be a thing?”

She remained quiet at that, her brows furrowed as she thought. He waited as she tried finding a way to argue back, but he didn’t really give her a chance before throwing out another point.

“I am content with what I have. It’s not what I want, but you and I both know we never get what we want. We just gotta live with what we’re given.”

“One day Javier, I am going to take what I want by force. Gonna grip it by the horns and make it bend to my will,” He knew full well what she was talking about. Her want to leave the gang, devotion from John, a simple life with a farm. He had heard her speak of it enough. “And I pray that one day you’re going to stop looking around you and thinking ‘this is how it is’ and being okay with it. For a man who would talk himself hoarse about the rights of people and how governments should bend to their will, you sure as hell don’t do a lot of standing up yourself.”

He shrugged. “Guess I’m all talk.”

“Well, you better start learning how to live up to that talk. I might not have always been nice to you and you not nice to me, but I want good things for you.”

“And I for you.” He said with a smile. The flies were starting to come in now, buzzing around. They’d have to end this soon or run the risk of being bled dry. “Arthur tells me you guys are talking of leaving.”

Abigail seemed surprised, almost scared. He waved off her worries quickly. “I’m only sticking around for the bank money. I’m gone too. Dutch could never drag an ocean away from Mexico. I still have a family to get back to.”

She nodded, visibly put to ease, though the tight line that her mouth made wasn’t all so promising. “It wasn’t up to Arthur to say anything.”

“I asked. He wants to bring Hosea to California I'm sure you know. I asked if he was going to ask John and well that's the rest. John is a brother to me anyway, I wouldn’t snitch even if I wasn’t going.”

“You should make your peace with Molly then before you go.”

He had to bite back the bit about her leaving with him too, but as Abigail had been upset with Arthur, he was sure Molly would be livid if he told another person about their plans. Especially after her concern over Abigail’s snooping. 

“As long as you stop bothering Molly so much. I know you're trying to be kind, but you are freaking her out a bit. Go to her as a friend for once.”

“She’s so young,” Abigail said. “It’s hard not to mother her. I mean, she seems younger than me. I know she's got a year on me but she seems so naive, like a child. I’ll try to lay off. Just so I won't have you coming after me to defend her honour.”

He laughed at that and Abigail joined in too.“I do have a good shot.”

“You're a pig,” She teased as she stood up, giving him a good punch in the arm. “You're lucky I like you.”

“I see what you do to men you like and I will take that as a threat.”

Her smile grew wider. “I don’t like you as much as John most days so I think you're safe.”

“For now.”

“Yeah. For now.”

  
-

Javier was never nervous before a job. He could remember the first time he had ridden with the _resistencia_ so many years back. His first task had to help set a field aflame, some rich white man who kept fat off the backs of the peasants. Despite the guards and the constant fear of being shot, he barely had shaken. It was his ability to stay calm that had kept him useful to rebels. Useful to Guillermo. It had made him burst with pride.

But now? He had nearly spat up his coffee; the nerves that racked his body were so bad he could barely swallow. It wasn't until he took his time getting into his suit with slow and meticulous movements that Javier finally felt the nerves leave his body. By the time the others were getting up, he was ready. And he took one final moment to find Molly.

Giving a few ‘good mornings’ to the people who were sleepily getting up, he made his way up the stairs and to the sitting room once again. 

“Is Dutch up?” He whispered to Molly as he creaked the door open. She was seated in one of the coaches, knitting in hand. When she shook her head, he sneaked quickly into the room and closed the door behind him. 

“You're off then?” She asked, voice low.

“He wanted me ahead. Wants someone in town at least before it all goes down.” He moved closer to her, mindful of each step on the aged floorboards. “Look. I don't know how this is all going to play out today-”

“It’ll be fine.” She tried interrupting, but he ignored her.

“-but if things go wrong like they did in Blackwater, you run. Get to the spot on one of the horses and take all that money. I got more stuffed away in the hollow of my guitar. You destroy that thing and get out.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and the dread he had been feeling earlier seemed to wash over Molly in an instant. Molly placed a hand onto her belly and for some reason, the simple act or the acknowledgment of why they had to leave left him weak in the knees. And then the weakness turned to steeliness as conviction entered him.

“You’ll be fine,” Molly said once more, emphasizing the last word. “And I will be ready to go.”

He nodded. “So we stick to the plan then. We leave the second it gets dark and make our way back to the Heartlands?”

“Exactly.”

Javier nodded once more and turned to leave, but before he could make any progress towards the door, Molly hopped up from her seat and grab at his jacket sleeve. He turned to look and found her staring intently at him.

“I want you to come back alright. So don’t do anything stupid.”

“Coming on a little strong?” He teased, smiling. It was enough to get her to smile too. “Do you want me back just cause you need my help or cause you’d actually miss me?”

Molly gave a little laugh, looking a bit bashful. “Let’s go with a mixture of the two. Though I would be sad to have to break that guitar of yours.”

Something seemed to hang in the air there, balancing so carefully between them. But there was no time to act on whatever that something was. Javier gave her one last goodbye, and fought every instinct in him that said ‘look back one more time’. 

Riding into Saint-Denis now felt wrong. He had come back one last time to see Pancho off. Deciding to head back to Mexico instead of taking a detour to San Francisco, he had written to Javier and he had shown up. There was a comfort in knowing the kid wouldn't be in the city, that he wouldn’t be thinking in the back of his head ‘what if he shows up’.

The anticipation of what was to come really ate away at Javier. His job from now till when the boys arrived was to make sure everything was as Hosea said it would be. The patrols were just as they were, several policemen doing their beat with no more than two on a patrol. The guards outside the bank were two as well. There were no abnormalities, nothing more and nothing less. Just as Hosea had said.

It would have been comforting in the past, but with Blackwater in the past and California to the future, Javier was more than willing to be extra cautious.

Abigail had come by around the time that she was supposed to, confirming that Hosea was in position and she was on her way there, making sure that everything was going along fine and if there was anything to report. 

The men arrived just on time too. Javier pulled a face when he saw the godawful suit Micah had decided to wear (too fancy and standoffish for a robbery in his opinion) and made his way over as the ‘diversion’ went off. 

All went according to plan. The guards ran off in the direction of the blast, the men got into the bank as planned. Guarding the side exit and crowd control went as planned. Everything was falling into place as it should and Javier despite all the reasons to worry was finally settling in. He felt aware of everything as adrenaline rushed through his veins and the giddiness that came with such a high case robbery was starting to get to his head. He could think and see past damned Saint-Denis truly for the first time. 

It all vanished as John cried out, “We got trouble!”

Javier couldn’t see what was going on. He could hear it well enough. Milton's voice rang out clear enough, though he could not really make out the words. John had cried out again about Abigail and his blood had run cold at that. Abigail? Did Milton have Abigail?

His fears had become true and Javier was not ready to relieve Blackwater again. 

A shot rang out then, and the silence that followed said all. And in a split second, with the sound of breaking glass resonating through them, breaking the trance they were all in. Bullets soon were whizzing by his head and he knew before he could make it to the window to shoot back that this was worse than Blackwater. Outside the window, Javier could make our scores of Pinkertons and policemen, and his heart dropped when he saw what was between them and the enemy.

Hosea. He wasn’t moving.

He must have said those words out loud as Micah bit back, “Of course he ain’t. He’s dead.”

The rest was a blur. Shooting and praying. Hoping that this struggle to live would not be in vain. For a second time in less than half a year, Javier was praying, hoping that God was merciful enough to look past his abundance of sins. A fear that he’d be reunited with his mother. Scared that each breath was going to be his last.

This was worse than Blackwater.

But unlike Blackwater, they were on solid ground. He had heard yelling about ‘dynamite’ and suddenly there was a violent vibration that shook through his whole body and made his ears ring. The sudden commotion was enough to falter the shooting outside for a second, enough time for Javier to see that Dutch and Arthur had blown a hole in the bank wall. He had only enough time to throw the repeater he had slung over his shoulder to Arthur, who had been dumb enough to only carry a pistol in.

While they had been lucky in Blackwater, fighting long enough to hold off the Pinkertons, here they were losing ground. As it became more obvious they were going to lose the bank, Dutch had yelled at him to go join Arthur up on the roof. He didn’t pay attention to who followed, he just did what he was told.

Up on the roof, it was a different story. Arthur proving again and again why he was considered the best gun, shooting down nearly every bastard stupid enough to poke his head on the balcony. And from that view, he could see how utterly surrounded they were. 

Soon the others joined them in the fight, the bank truly lost. He looked over his shoulder only for a second to watch Arthur and Lenny ran off as Dutch ran to join their firepower. With all the gunfire that was going on, he was surprised when he heard it come from behind them. Erratic firing.

Dutch commanded them to run in that direction and so they ran, not questioning it for a moment. Greeted by Arthur holding Lenny’s body, limp in his arms. 

Shock and disbelief. 

All he could do was run, follow the pack as Pinkertons yelled from below the streets. Hop between buildings. Try to keep quiet. Follow as quickly as possible.

Before he knew it, they were at an end. An apartment boarded up and forgotten. Dutch and Arthur ushered them into the room, bickering away, but all Javier could hear was ringing. As they made their way down the corridor to an empty room, it all began to truly sink in.

John was gone. Taken somehow. Hosea was dead. Shot in the street. Lenny was dead too. Shot just mere feet from them. Abigail was missing.

He collapsed onto the floor, not caring about where he landed or how dirty the floor was. Javier could feel his hair starting to come loose from the cord that normally held it tight. But he couldn't care. They were in trouble. Deeper trouble than usual. They had expected some gunfire, but local police caught off guard, not Pinkertons ready for the fight. Their hope that the bumbling police wouldn't be able to keep up was key to their escape plan. And now the camp was in danger too.

Before he could really begin to panic, Dutch started to go on about a new plan. A boat, a way to the docks, a way out.

Nothing else was really said after that. A few grumblings about ‘how could they have known’ but nothing of substance. Even Micah kept his mouth shut, exhaustion written all over his face.

It was then that the panic from earlier began to set in more. Javier did the best he could to contain it, but all he could think about was what they had left behind. Camp would be defenceless. Sure, Karen, Grimshaw and Sadie could hold their own, even Uncle if you nudged him enough, but against an army? They’d be overrun. Hell, they had been nearly gotten by the O’Driscolls and they had been lucky to have every man and woman accounted for that day.

And Molly.

Oh god, Molly.

What was she thinking right now? Camp would hear the news no doubt. The job went wrong. Everything had been hanging on this day. Enough money to go. He could only hope Molly had enough sense to take one of the spare horses out to the shack where they had kept supplies and the money. It had been an old house Javier had come across not long after they had arrived at Shady Belle. An old slave catcher's shack just south of the Braithwaite's plantation. It had looked more abandoned than the church, so he had settled on that as their safe spot, even if it gave him the creeps.

She knew the location, he had shown her on the map. He could only hope now she wasn’t stupid enough to stall.

Eventually, night fell and they took that as their cue to leave. Packing up what little they had, they made it onto the streets, quiet as death itself. A rare feat for Saint-Denis. They made their way down to the port, avoiding patrols in whatever convoluted way they could. Each breath was drawn with suspension, unsure if it was the final breath he could take. But the farther and farther they got down, the easier and easier that breath became. When their way had seemed blocked, he had watched with awe as Charles had used himself as a diversion, running in the opposite direction of their goal and baiting the Pinkertons to follow.

And soon enough, they were on a boat. One that had been ready to go, obviously given the all-clear by the Pinkertons enforcing the curfew. They had slunk on, making a home between the crates like rats. None of them made a noise until Dutch had slipped out and made a peace offering. By morning, they were well out to sea and in the captain’s good graces as passengers rather than stowaways thanks to a bit of gold. They were on their way to Cuba.

“And what are we going to do in Cuba, Dutch?” Bill had asked after they had all been settled, each of them a varying degree of exhaustion. Javier himself must have been going on nearly a day without sleep, feeling just as drained as he had on their exodus to Colter.

“Hold up for a while, then hurry back.” He had replied, cool and collected, so sure of his plan as though their previous plan hadn’t gone up in smoke and shit. “We gather up the rest of our family. At least we got some money now. Money and loyalty.”

It took everything in him not to crush the cigarette between his fingers. Micah prattled on about the dark clouds just beyond the horizon, but all Javier could pay attention to was Dutch. And feel a sort of burning feeling bloom in his chest. Loyalty. Loyalty….

-

“Molly’s pregnant.”

Arthur had looked at him in shock. Javier had cornered him as the men had settled for the night. The dark clouds that Micah had complained about earlier were closer now, making the winds that whipped around them strong. Strong enough that he had no fear of anyone overhearing them on the deck.

“What do you mean?” Arthur looked at him with a gaping look that said ‘I really am as stupid as they say I am’. 

“It means Molly’s pregnant,” He said, trying to keep his voice even. He knew it was the lack of sleep that was causing his irritation. That and Dutch’s attitude. He clarified quickly as Arthur began to frown. “I didn’t fuck her behind Dutch’s back. The baby is his, one-hundred percent. But she wants to leave. Do what’s right for her baby. And I am going too.”

It began to sink in then for Arthur, and Javier felt bad for thinking him stupid. He looked just as exhausted, the bags under his eyes swollen and deep in colour.

“Smart of her.”

There was something in the way Arthur’s posture began to slack and a sort of distant look in his eyes that made Javier stiffen.

“You say that like you’ve heard this before.” Javier really didn’t want Arthur to clarify. He didn’t want the last little bit of hope he had in Dutch to go.

He had always clung to the idea that if they had failed, maybe Dutch would have some understanding. Some love for his unborn child even if he had no love for the woman that bore it. He couldn't have that shatter on him now.

“Annabelle died some time ago now. After her was Rebecca. She came maybe a few months after the whole business with Colm,” Arthur reminisced, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. He watched with bated breath as he struggled to light the cigarette in the wind, but ultimately succeeding. After one quick puff, he continued, “She was a pretty thing Dutch had picked up. I think she was one of ten or something. Something that wouldn't be missed. Common girl but pretty. She didn’t last with us long. Got in the family way. Dutch paid her off and we never saw her again.”

His heart sank. The family way wasn’t a term he was familiar with but he knew what it meant.

“Why couldn't you have told me.” Was all he could say, his voice breaking.

“What do you mean?”

“That Dutch wasn’t the man I thought he was.” Arthur looked at him confused, but he continued. “All this death? Needless death. I watched Dutch blast open the face of that girl in Blackwater without any concern. He only did it cause he could. A bad situation or not, she didn’t need to die. And everything that has happened since. It wasn’t cause he needed to, it’s cause he wanted to.”

“You know well as I-”

“I don’t,” He interrupted. “I don’t know anymore. I have done as Dutch has asked, been as loyal as I could be. I have killed for him and robbed for him. I have been an obedient boy for him like we all have been. And instead of laying low like Hosea wanted and what we need, he has gotten us into more shit. And now Hosea is dead and everyone is in danger. Cause Dutch kept digging us into deeper and deeper shit till all you can see is goddamn _shit_.”

“You’re upset and tired,” Arthur reasoned. Javier hadn't realized at the moment, but he had been yelling. It was a quick touch to the shoulder that made him realize that he had stiffened up too. He felt wound tight, ready to snap at a moment's notice. “And that’s fair. I ain’t gonna pretend that I agree with everything. Hell, I’m with you on a lot of that. But if we start breaking off now, we’re dead. You hold on until we get back home and you do what you need to for Molly. Don’t you worry about everything till you're far away and safe. And curse him all you want. You got California to worry about now. So do I.”

Javier swallowed every rebuttal he had and nodded. 

“Get some rest, Javier. I’ll be down in a moment.”

-

He woke up to an alarm going off and Dutch yelling at them to wake up. Disoriented, he got up from the bed, only to fall over as the ground below him wobbled.

Again, thrown into the shit. He followed behind Micah as the more awake he became the more he realized what was going on. 

Those dark clouds and high winds had turned into a storm as he had never seen before. Upon the deck he could see the crates that they had been hiding in before were now a tower of fire, as the smell of burning coal hit him, making him cough. 

“Where’s Arthur,” he yelled over everything to Dutch, who had come up from behind.

“Crates fell before him. He’s making his way around. We gotta make it to the boat son unless you want to swim.” And with one big shoved, he was stumbling forward towards said boats.

He had clambered up and into the boat and before he could ask how long they were going to wait for Arthur, Dutch had quickly cut the rope holding them up. The sudden fall made him almost sick at the motion. And then sicker when he realized they were leaving Arthur behind. He could have screamed at Dutch right then and there when they saw from the balcony Arthur waving them down. 

And all at once, they were yelling at him to jump. To swim to them. But the waves were big and strong, rising up high before them and crashing down with fierce strength.

They were washed away quickly. If he had thought himself disoriented before, Javier was completely lost now. All that was before him was darkness where no light shined through. He wasn’t the strongest swimmer even in calm waters and now it was a struggle to even rise up. He clawed his way up until he broke through the water, gulping in as much air as he could. He could someone grab onto the back of his shirt and hold on. 

And holding became lifting, as he was brought back into the boat, the light now extinguished. 

“Are you alright, son?” Dutch had yelled to him, looking as wet as Javier figured he must be himself.

“No.”

They clung onto that boat for most of the night, praying that it would not break beneath them. And as the hours dragged on in the slowest most torturous way, the waves calmed and the sky cleared. Soon enough, they could see land, just in reach. 

Without a single thought, Dutch had commanded them to jump ship and swim to shore.

“It’s our best chance,” He had told them as he had jumped in. They all followed suit, not that there was much choice.

They reached the sandy shores after a tiring swim, each muscle in his body jumping and twitching painfully. He could barely breathe beyond some pathetic wheezing as Javier collapsed down into the sand. It was a battle just to get his breathing steady and somewhat resembling something normal. Looking around, none of the others were doing well.

It hit him quickly afterwards that he was stuck on god knows what with two of his least favourite gang members and a man he was now beginning to despise.

All Javier could think was how could his luck get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a beast of a chapter. I tried skipping over a lot of the little details of the mission "Banking, The Old American Art" and the beginning of "Welcome to the New World" while focusing more on the introspective of what was going on. I cannot tell you how many times I had to replay these missions to understand where Javier was at every step of the mission. I had to restart the Saint-Denis Robbery mission several times just to figure out where Javier was hiding before they entered the bank!
> 
> Also, if you're familiar with my other fic "let me drown in your laughter' you might be seeing where this is going. This whole fic might be apart of a larger au I've had for a while.
> 
> Things are going to stray away from the canon of the missions just due to keeping things feeling fluid and also me not completely copying R* writing.


	7. Chapter 7

They had learned quickly that the name of the island they were situated on was called Guarma. A name he was familiar with considering how often he drank rum that bore its name. There had been a small settlement not so far from where they had landed that had turned out to be a fairly big hacienda. 

Javier had spoken quickly to a woman who had been down by the water, a baby strapped to her back and no shoes on her feet. 

The second he heard she opened her mouth, the casual and almost hard to understand way she talked betrayed her as Cuban. She had been immediately charmed by him, or rather found him funny. He must have been funny looking considering he looked like a drowned rat. When he had told her a half-lie about how he had gotten there, she had laughed.

“ _Look my friend, you best keep your head low_ ,” She had said with a smirk. “ _You’re on Guarma now and the big man, Fussar, he isn’t kind and he isn’t friendly to strangers. You’ll end up here with me and I’m married already so I’ll just kick you back out._ ”

“ _Thank you, ma’am-_ ”

“ _Almudena_ ,” She corrected. “ _And this little man here is Hugo. Now you know and now you get going._ ”

He had watched her walk off, strangely reminded of some of the women he had known back home. It had been then, as he looked onto the estate, with the scattered poorly built buildings and fields of tobacco that this was nothing more than a plantation. Not so different from the one he had grown up on himself.

Dutch had been pleased with what he had learned. 

“Knowing where you stand is half the battle,” He had told them. “And we’re in Cuba-”

“-Guarma isn’t Cuba,” Javier began to correct, not knowing really why he wanted to argue such a stupid point. “I know this, a friend of mine used to tell me about the revolutionary actions taking place in Cuba before the war. Guarma is technically-”

“Son.” Dutch interrupted him, his tone almost casual and dismissive. “Does a history lesson and semantics really do us any good?”

Micah had given a laugh at that, a pathetic little snort of one anyway, and Javier had clenched his mouth tight, feeling a bitterness on his tongue. There had been no mention of Arthur and it had made that bitterness even stronger. He still felt the weight of guilt on leaving Arthur, even if it hadn’t been his choice.

They had moved down the coast after that, settling somewhere along a new bay. It wasn’t that much of a trip, barely taking half a day. But Dutch was looking for something. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure. He had been clear in letting Dutch know about the hacienda but he had no interest in it. Much to Javier’s relief.

It was as they were camped along a bit of exposed stone that the bitterness and guilt from before was lifted from him. Out of the blue, as they all sat in silence, a voice had made them lift their heads.

Arthur, looking like he had been dragged through hell, had called out for Dutch, his voice weak and nearly falling down. All of them took no time in greeting him, with Javier keeping a steady hand on him as they led him down by the fire.

He had quickly recounted what had happened, saying he had jumped off the boat and found himself wandering for the better part of a day.

“I’m surprised you all stayed together,” He had said, voice still hoarse but better now that he had a bit of water in him. They had given him more than a share of a bird Bill had been lucky to take down. “Thought that boat you were in would of been destroyed.’

No comment made on ‘why didn’t you wait’ though the look that he gave Dutch asked that.

“I’m surprised too, son,” Dutch said, patting his shoulder. “The rigging had given out and we were lucky we hadn’t been thrown from the boat. Well, Javier and I had fallen in on the first big wave we got, but Bill and Micah here were quick to react.”

Javier’s head whipped quickly to stare at Dutch, catching the whole bit about the rigging giving well enough. He had watched as Dutch had cut the rope, not a word said at all. It had made him sick in the moment and what made him sicker now was watching Micah and Bill nod along. But instead of fighting, pointing out all the ways Dutch was wrong, he bit down on his tongue and kept his mouth shut.

As Arthur was filled in more, their luck had run out some more. The sound of footsteps and the unmistakable sound of guns moving were behind them, and looking up at the rock they had taken shelter at, they were greeted by men in light blue uniforms. Local militia for sure.

More men camp out of the brush, guns pointed at them. Dutch made one quip about ‘getting shot at’ but none of them responded, Javier himself afraid of saying anything that could get himself shot.

“ _Get these men in chains,_ ” One voice called out from the brush, his accent horrible American. The voice was soon connected to a man who came out on a donkey. 

“Gentleman, this is quite a welcome,” Dutch, quickly turning on his charm, said to the man. As he was saying this, Javier got singled out by one of the guards, being pushed towards another man with chains. As he got shackled, Micah was pushed towards him too.

“Who are you?” The _güero_ on the donkey responded. Less of a question and more of a command.

“Senor, por fah-vor. We are no one.” As Dutch responded, the armed men took no time to get them linked up in chains. They had cuffed them at the ankles as well, and he could already feel the pull and tug of the others behind him. 

“What’s your name?”

“Aiden…. O’Malley.”

The _güer_ o definitely didn’t believe that. He could hear it in his voice. “Is that so? What are you doing? Mister O’Malley?”

He listened as Dutch went on about how they were stranded, not so far from the story he had told Almudena. They were soon pushed forward, the men not afraid to get rough.

As they were led down the beach, Javier listened closely to the conversation between the _güero_ who introduced himself as Levi Simon and Dutch. Talks of rebelling workers and whatnot. The way Levi spoke about it rang so close to what he had heard back home. He could remember one of the Allende boys talking about the rioting ‘workers’ in the same way. Nuisances who dare ask for more. Trouble.

Levi promised them freedom, once he knew who they actually were. At least in English. In Spanish, not to his surprise, he told his men to shoot them if they caused any trouble. He rode off after that and Javier found himself throwing a quiet curse at him.

They travelled along that beach for what felt like hours when they reached another group. One look at them and Javier knew they were just peasants. The state of their clothes and weathered skin said as much. They were chained up quickly and one comment made it clear that he had been wrong about them being ‘just peasants’. Rebels. If it didn't mean getting shot at, he would have made a comment to them.

Instead, they kept travelling. His feet were starting to ache terribly and he could feel the muscles in his legs twitch and cramp up. It was as he was starting to think he couldn’t take anymore, gunfire rang out.

It became clear that they weren’t the ones getting shot at, but the guards around them. Javier watched as they began to drop one by one, but still hooked up to the chains he could do nothing. He looked behind him to see that Arthur had taken keys off one of the men and had freed himself. But as he did, he was dragged down by the men in front of him who had gone for the other guard who had dropped.

As bullets whizzed by, the men got themselves freed. One of them, the older man, helped Javier out of the chain that wrapped around his waist, but the ones on his ankles still remained.

The gunfire ceased the second the last guard fell, and before they could breathe easy, reinforcements were spotted.

“Mon dieu. We needed to get out of here!” A voice cried out from the trees. Javier looked quick enough to see a man, most likely their saviour but wasted no time as the keys were passed to him and he tried to get out of the shackles as quickly as possible.

“Follow me!” The man yelled out again. They moved as quickly as they could to get to the treeline, but Javier found his legs cramping up at just the wrong moment.

As he tried to limp forward, his heart racing with panic, but suddenly he was down on the ground, his leg having given out. It wasn’t till he saw blood that the pain set in and he realized he had been shot.

“Get outta here!” He cried out to them, seeing as Arthur, Bill and Dutch hesitated. He was done for, this he knew in a moment. But they had a chance still. “Get out, there’s a lot of them.”

He could hear something about faith, but he could barely pay attention to it. His focus landed only on his right leg. He gripped hard onto it, as blood still spilled out. Each beat of his heart sent a new wave of pain through him, intense at where the bullet had pierced his thigh. Javier had been injured by a hell of a lot of things, but never had he ever been actually shot before. Not by a real bullet. Where his neck being sliced open had been overwhelming to the point of passing out, this was compact and unbearable. There was no passing out; adrenaline was keeping him awake and aware of the injury.

He tried crying out for help, not caring if it was the militia who aided him. All he wanted was the pain to stop. And aid came. Men surrounded him, guns pointed at him like he was in any position to fight back. And then the sound of a donkey. He looked up to the sky and saw the sun blocked out by that damned _güero_.

“Well, what do we have here?”

-

Javier learned that the plantation from before had been separate from the plantation they were originally being led to. He had a hard time before understanding Cuban Spanish from the woman with the baby (“Almudena” He remembered. “Her name was Almudena and the baby was Hugo.”) after listening to the guards or militia or whatever the fuck they were going back and forth. It was there he learned that they were originally going to be brought down to the plantation they called _Aguadulce_ , which was along the ironically named Bay of Peace. He got a good lesson on it all as Levi had filled him in on his fate.

The _hacienda_ he found himself on was the privately owned one by the Fussar mentioned by Alumenda. Several plantations dotted the island, and all of them were owned by Fussar. _Cala Paraíso_ was larger than _Nuevo-Leon_ , the estate the Allende’s had owned back in his province; that much he had seen as he had been dragged back. His leg had been trashed truly. Once the initial pain had subsided, Javier had been okay to limp on it for a moment. He ended up having to use one of the guard’s as a crutch and hated every moment of it. Now, in one of the shacks with a guard watching his every move, one of the women on site was bandaging him up.

How badly he wanted to talk to her, but he could see that she was purposefully trying to avoid his gaze, afraid of whatever punishment she’d receive if she daddled or dared to signal to him in any way.

Javier had hated growing up on the Allende's _hacienda_. They had been a big, important family that had risen from the dirt only a generation previous, and they stunk of new rich arrogance. Some of his earliest memories had been him out in the fields with his mother, ‘helping’ her pick cotton. He had been lucky enough to move off the fields at an early age to start ‘apprenticing’ off one of the carpenter’s Señor Allende had. That had barely lasted into his teens, he was thrown back to the fields as punishment for Uncle Mateo’s demonstration. And he had hated it. But as bad as things were back home, he could barely imagine how it was for them. The few workers he had seen had a sort of haggard look that he hadn’t seen on the other's back home. Even this woman looked thin and tired.

“ _How bad is it?”_ He tried asking her. The woman didn’t even look him in the eye, just shook her head and continued. The guard obviously didn’t like that.

“ _Quiet, monkey,_ ” The guard barked. “ _Save your breath for what’s coming_.”

“ _I just want to know if I have to get the leg cut off,_ ” He replied coolly. “ _I might need my leg for what’s com-_ ”

Javier didn’t get a chance to finish as the guard had taken a step forward then, hitting him in the head with the butt of the rifle, making his ears ring.

“ _That’ll shut you up._ ”

Javier had decided to listen and keep his mouth shut after that.

He really didn’t know what to expect after that point. When the woman had finished bandaging him up, she had left as quickly as she could, only asking the guard if she could leave. He had sat in that shack for what felt like hours when finally the door opened again.

Two men enter, one being Levi from earlier and the other a man he had never seen before. He was a well-dressed, decently tall man with a well-groomed moustache. It had taken him a moment to comprehend who he was seeing cause for a moment he had looked like Señor Allende’s nephew, Agustin, though a touch older. And it was that connection that made him realize who this was.

“ _I suppose your Fussar?_ ” Javier said, winching a little as he moved on the cot. “ _I’ve already heard of you._ ”

“ _That’s Colonel Fussar to you._ ” Levi stepped forward, but Fussar waved him off.

“ _A peculiar thing when a bunch of men show up on my shores claiming they were on some getaway trip to some tropical island._ ” Where the others had a sort of weird dropping of any ‘s’ sound, his just sounded wrong. The words all sounded wrong. And it took him a moment to realize Fussar had to be an actual Spaniard. Or at least spent a lot of time there at some point. He switched to English then, his accent smooth and barely noticeable. “So tell me, little man, who are you?”

“Héctor Sanchez.” He replied, stealing his father’s own name. “I’m from Guadalajara. I was on a trip when-”

“Señor Sanchez,” Fussar interrupted. “I don’t believe you.”

“You think I’m lying for fun? Do you think I want to take my chances after getting shot in the leg? I never met those men in my life. Mister O’Malley is some sort of businessman that I dined with once on the cruise but-”

“Mister Simon,” Fussar turned to him. “Make this idiot talk.”

Before Javier could react, Levi stepped forward and socked him hard in the face. He was thrown back, the movement jostling his leg enough to make him cry out. 

“I don’t know anything!” Javier pleaded. He held his hand out just as Levi was bringing his arm back for one more punch. “I swear! I swear! I’m Mexican! Why would I want to be around _gringos_ on purpose? Please I am begging you, I know nothing!” 

That didn’t stop Levi from hitting him again. The guard still stationed at the door gave a little laugh at that. It was enough to get Fussar’s attention off of him and now to his man.

“ _You find this funny?_ ” He addressed the man. “ _You think this is amusing?_ ”

“ _I suppose so, Colonel. Mister Simon always did have a vicious punch, sir._ ”

That was enough to tell him what sort of man Fussar was. Some lowly, in the mud-and-shit underling could make a comment like that to his commander, knowing that he would be okay with this. That the men were allowed to acknowledge their commanders’ cruelty. This did not bode well for Javier.

“ _Well then, little man,_ ” Fussar turned back to him. “ _If you won’t talk, I’ll send some men in to help you loosen that tongue of yours. Enjoy your stay._ ”

And with that, he turned and left. Levi gave him a knowing smirk, obviously well aware of the type of punishment waiting for Javier, and left as well.

The guard took a step forward.

-

His foot was numb. It was about the only part of him that didn’t feel pain. Four men had joined the guard, taking no mercy on Javier no matter how much he begged. Or pleaded. Or lied.

He laid on the ground, not daring the move. The pain was a low, dull throbbing feeling that would become sharp and almost unbearable if he moved too much. Even if he breathed too deeply it hurt. So all Javier could do was keep his face pressed to the cool dirt and wait.

He thought that this is what his friends back home must have gone through. They had been ambushed by a group of soldiers, barely getting out and running into the plains. Most had been captured and thanks to Guillermo’s sacrifice, Javier had been lucky enough to make it back to Escalera. 

Three days later they had all been strung up in the center of town, sacks over their faces, bullets riddled through their bodies. Each sack had _traidor_ written on it in red paint. The soldiers had bragged about how each man squealed like a stuck pig over each beating they had gotten. Guillermo had been the only one strung up without his head covered, his face so swollen from the beating he had gotten. 

He had often wondered what it must have been like, those last three days of his life. Javier would have experienced it if it wasn’t for Guillermo’s sacrifice. But he supposed he was getting a good picture of it now, five years later.

He had no idea of the time nor how much time had passed since he last had ‘visitors’ but the door to the shack eventually opened, and Javier braced himself for another beating. Instead, warm hands helped him to his feet, slow and steady to try and reduce the pain. It still hurt like a bitch and he couldn’t contain a swear as it passed through his lips.

“ _Hey, watch it friend. I might not have my baby strapped to me so I can worry about your nasty language, but that’s still uncalled for._ ” It was the woman he had met before. His brain felt sluggish, unable to remember her name. Seeing how confused he looked, she introduced herself again. “ _Almudena._ ”

The other woman was the one who had bandaged him before. She now looked at him, intently. They had helped him down onto the cot, helping him swing his one bad leg up.

“ _I told you to keep your head low._ ”

“ _Apparently, not low enough,_ ” He tried to joke, but the short laugh he gave made him moan out in pain. “ _Fussar’s men really stick their noses to the dirt._ ”

“ _I want to take the bandage off,_ ” The woman said. “ _I was only allowed to stop the bleeding before but I want to make sure there’s no bullet left in it._ ”

He nodded, bracing himself for pain.

The woman got to work unravelling the already blood-soaked cloth as Almudena sat next to him, taking his hand. “ _That is Ines. She is my mother. More careful fingers you’ll find nowhere else. You are literally in good hands._ ”

“ _Good to know,_ ” He said through clenched teeth. Ines took no time in digging her fingers into the open wound, causing Javier to cry out. The pain barely subsided when she removed her fingers, it took everything in him not to swear again.

“ _You should tell them whatever they want,_ ” Almudena told him. “ _Keeping a secret only will keep you from the fields longer. And that's not something you want._ ”

“ _I refuse to go to the fields. I’m getting off this island and going home._ ” He said. “ _I have to get home._ ”

“ _You’re on Guarma, kid. The men here want to go home too, but they're prisoners. They don't get a choice._ ”

“ _I’ll find a way._ ”

Almudena looked like she wanted to say something, but her mother grabbed her and told her to ‘get going’. She had only given a soft look as she had left the shack. And Javier found himself alone again.

He wasn’t too sure how much time had passed when he was visited again. Two guards he hadn’t seen before entered and then Levi Simon. If Javier had the strength he would of spat on him.

“Come on now,” Levi began, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “Colonel Fussar wants you brought down to the factory.”

“‘Fraid I’m not up for walking.” 

“Oh, you’re not walking, don’t worry.”

-

_Javier’s stomach had sunk when he realized what was going on._

_Molly had barely been with them a month, working away as best as she could, but never not good enough for Grimshaw. He could feel her anger in every word spat out as they sat by each other in the evenings. Talking about the comings and goings of camp, talking about how it felt to be in a strange but new country, flirting with her but just a little._

_But tonight all Molly wanted to talk about was Dutch._

_“He was so heroic, Mister Escuella,” She sighed, her expression soft. “He grabbed me and held me tight just as the rider was about to mow me down. And he told me ‘don’t worry, my dear you are always safe with me’. When it had all calmed down, he had taken me off without Arthur or Bill, and we went for a walk! Talking to me and being sweet on me. Asking me if I was alright. He called me beautiful.”_

_He knew Dutch to be a womanizer. Hell, they all had a laugh over it time and time again. He had seen two girls in the three years he had been riding with them, none of them lasting long before Dutch’s attention turned elsewhere._

_“You know Dutch flirts with girls a lot right?” He couldn’t keep that to himself, somewhat guided by jealousy, unafraid to hurt her. “How are you sure-”_

_“I’m not a fool,” She snapped at him. “I know love when I see it.”_

_Molly had stopped talking to him after that. She had gotten up and stormed off. He had walked her fall into Dutch’s bed not long after that, and from there whatever bit of friendship they had fizzled out into just fellow camp members._

_Until a warm hand on a warm day just outside of Blackwater touched him on the shoulder._

-

He thought he knew pain before. Javier didn’t know pain.

They had strapped his leg up to Levi’s mule, the one that had bee shot, and dragged him through the mud up to _Aguadulce_. He had cried and begged and pleaded all over again. Wishing and hoping it would stop.

But it wouldnt. It didn’t. It couldn't.

He had felt both hot and cold at the same time, bordering somewhere in that weird spot between delirium and reality. They had beaten him, stuffed him into a cage, poked and prodded him while laughing. All he could do was feign ignorance and hope it would end soon.

He hadn’t known if the explosion that had rocked through the site. There was yelling, confusion and suddenly the door was swinging open.

“Am I glad to see you,” Javier said as Dutch was helping him up and out. And despite the anger and betrayal he had felt for the man, he really meant it. Though he wasn't sure he was fully awake.

“Alright. Come on son…” And with one swift motion that was surprisingly steady for a man who probably hadn’t eaten proper in a while, Dutch threw him over his shoulder.

After that point, everything got hazy. The only thing that had been keeping him awake at that point had been the constant, throbbing pain in his leg, but that fog that had been clinging to the edge of his consciousness finally had the strength to take over completely. The last thing he could remember was Arthur’s voice and the smell of gunfire, and then nothing.

He dreamt or at least he thought he was. A jumble of memories climbing to the surface. Hunting for the first time with his uncle Mateo. Watching the boats along the San Luis with Carmena, Felipe and Estralita as kids, singing and laughing with his fellow revolutionaries. His father guiding his fingers along the old guitar, teaching him the chords for the first time. Feeling his mother’s hands brush back his hair which had been so much longer back then. He could feel Molly’s warm hand on his shoulder and being blinded by her in the sunlight, his heart so goddamn full he could barely stand it.

And then it was all gone. He was lying on some cot with the air around him so humidity it almost choked him. His hair was no longer tied back and clung to him thanks to sweat. Javier gently maneuvered himself up to look around but found that even though caused pain to shoot right through him.

“ _You need to rest._ ” A man said. He moved over to where Javier was laying and pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him gently back onto the mattress. Even in his fever, he recognized the man. He had been one of the prisoners in the chain link. “ _You do speak Spanish?_ ”

“ _I’m Mexican,_ ” He whispered though not by choice. His throat was raw and he couldn't raise his voice even if he wanted to. “ _Where am I?_ ”

“ _You are back with your friends. Your friends are trying to get a way out of here. And you need to rest. You are safe now._ ”

He had fallen back asleep after that. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed really. He slept fitfully, would wake up only for a brief moment before falling back asleep again. 

Javier had been woken by Arthur after what felt like days of sleeping. Which had turned out to be true. In the time he had slept, they had procured a boat and guaranteed themselves a way out.  
“We’re leaving in the evening, Hercule said that’s the best time.” Arthur had smiled at him then, but that smile could not hide just how terrible he looked. 

“Wish I could have been of more use.” Javier began to apologize. He knew full well that these boys had no clue what they had stepped into. The cost of their actions on this island during such a sensitive time. They’d step around with leaden feet and trample about with no thought of the men and women who had suffered. His mind went to Almudena. He wished he could have helped not secure their freedom, but the other’s too. “Guess I should have gotten those shackles off quicker.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Shit Javier, we thought you were going to die. Not long after we got you back, you started burning up so hot Micah was making comments about burying you here.”

“I hope you punched him in the mouth for it.”

Arthur laughed at that, interrupted briefly by a cough. “Nah, Dutch wouldn’t let me.”

“Dutch cut the rope on the lifeboat,” Javier confessed, not really even thinking about the words coming out. It only felt natural to tell the truth. “I didn’t even have time to ask him what he was doing.”

Arthur’s expression had darkened at that. Taking a quick look around to see who was nearby, which thankful was no one need worrying about, Arthur leaned in, “When we went to go save you, Dutch got us a guide. Some old woman, barely a threat. I don’t know much Spanish other than the colourful words you taught me but I knew she was insulting us the entire time. She got greedy too, demanding more payment. And you know how Dutch it. I was expecting him to handle it like usual, sweet talk her and send her off. Drew a knife on us but she was a frail old woman. We could of easily knocked the knife away and scared her off.”

Arthur took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he was about to say next. “Dutch… just grabbed her. Strangled and bashed her against the ladder out of the caves. It was just like a flash of lighting. One second he seems under control and the next-” Arthur waved his hand. “-he was killing her.”

“That’s how it was on the Ferry.” He added. “Dutch seemed under control until he wasn’t. He could of let the woman go or kept her hostage till the end, but he just blew her brains across the wall and dropped her body like it had been nothing. I’m worried Arthur. I’m worried about his… his-”

“-Lack of care?” Arthur finished for him.

“Exactly. Lack of care. I’m having issues with where my loyalty begins and ends. As easy as I think it’s going to be to run away with Molly, I’m not sure how well I can actually go through with it in the moment. At least with old Dutch. This new Dutch is scary. But it's hard to tell where new and old beginnings and ends. You know?”

Arthur nodded at that. “I think this is the part were we decide where our loyalties actually lie. Is it just in Dutch or was it something else all along. You talk about how Dutch saved your life, but what did he actually do other than pick you up? Where was it you decided you wanted to be with us.”

Javier could answer that easily. When Arthur and John had given him their old clothes and made him try on boots and too big shirts. When Tilly had kept bringing him toasted bread his first morning with the gang, trying to fill him up without making him sick. Hosea and Bessie, before she got sick, spending hours trying to teach him their language and slowly succeeding. Grimshaw and Pearson getting his weight up slowly but surely. It was Arthur and Hosea who had taken him on his first job, and they had awarded him with a new gun instead of the borrowed one he had till that point.

Dutch had been there in the mix of course, but it hadn't been just Dutch. It had been a group of folk who had decided to show him kindness. Even Bill, who had taken him out drinking and helped him steal Boaz from some jackass who they had beaten and robbed. It had been Uncle who had shoved that guitar he had cherished so much in his arms. It had been Karen who had made him laugh and Mary-Beth who had listened to his stories and had repeated them as these grand romantic epics. It had been Lenny who he had drank with and Sean who had annoyed him as any little brother would. Charles who he had warmed up to and Swanson he had on some occasions enjoyed. Abigail who had let him hold Jack and sing lullabies to when John was too useless to be a father. Even useless as a father, John had been always good as a friend. All of them had been.

But at the forefront of his mind was Molly who had made him realize how far he was willing to go for love. How capable he was of it. Who made him want to be as noble and honourable as he had once been so long ago. To be the man he still wished he still was. 

“You really are more clever than you look,” Javier said, feeling an overwhelming feeling rise in his chest. He could have started tearing up if he was any other man, but he tried swallowing it as best as he could. “Arthur, I think you might be the smartest man I’ve ever met.”

“Okay flattery is nice but lying to a man ain’t nice.”

“I think Hosea once said flattery and lies go hand in hand? It’s the base of all good cons.”

Arthur had smiled at that, but his expressions dropped quickly, “It still hasn’t really hit me yet you know. Not really. That… he’s gone you know.”

If there was once something Javier could be thankful for, it was that he hadn’t watched Hosea die. He had barely gotten a look at his body. He could keep that image of him alive in his head at least. “Well, at least he’s with Bessie again.”

“There’s that at least. I hope... you take your own words too. Why you stuck around for as long as you did. Cause I don't think you did it just for Dutch-”

They had been drawn away from their conversation by the sound of someone approaching. And that someone was Bill.

“Hey, Dutch wants us down by the coast." He said. "The boat’s all docked up but we’re waiting on the captain now.” 

Arthur and Javier shared a look then. The promise of leaving so close now. The only hope they could have now was it wouldn’t go wrong. To have a bit of faith. So, with a bit of help from both of them, Javier was out of bed and on his way down towards his fate.

-

Javier had been the first off the boat only by virtue of him being injured. His leg was still trashed and his gait unsteady, which had meant he had been given the easiest task. Check the post offices around the county and try and find something. 

The last few days had been hard in a way that was hard to describe. Bill and Javier had sat in the boat and listened to the gunfire ringing off in the distance in silence, not making a comment about their inability to join in. He figured Bill was probably seething in anger at the fact he wasn't apart of the 'captain rescue party' thanks to Javier's needing a bodyguard. Though Javier knew it was also due to the man being a fool and somehow screwing shit up for them. They had all returned with the Captain looking worse for wear but walking, and the news that Levi Simon and Alberto Fussar were dead. News that Hercule looked pleased at. He felt a shared joy at that, knowing full well how good it felt to have your oppressor dead. 

It was after that as they were far from Guarma that Dutch had dropped the news they were going to land back near Saint-Denis. This had caused actual outrage which Dutch had stamped out quickly. Declaring that he would kill for this family and so on and so forth. Javier had to bite back so many words, but even then he was so damn exhausted he wasn't sure he could fight back.

The rest of those days at sea had been slow and boring. Most of them had been spent with his leg propped up and finally properly attended too. Lucky enough, after it being left to fester and dragged through mud, only a mild infection was present. Still hurt like a bitch to fix it up, but by the end it had looked and felt better. By the time he had been loaded up onto the boat to be sent to shore, the fever he had been sporting for days was finally gone and some strength was back. He was finally hunger for the first time in what felt like ages, which would have to be ignored for some time still. That he at least he knew he could do with ease.

Van Horn had been where the decided to offload, an old Trading Post dying out with Annesburg to the north and Saint-Denis to the south squishing it out. It was the perfect spot considering no one would really notice or care about abunch of folk suddenly coming to shore. They had agreed to space each unload off by one hour, which mean Javier had to work fast and get out of there before Micah, who had been tasked with making his way down to Rhodes, would land on shore.

Once onto the dock, he limped his way towards the post office right on the edge of town. There were few folks in the street and those who were out looked even worse than he did. And most drunk to the point of being incapable of standing up. It was good to know he wouldn't stand out that badly. At the office, he rang the bell on the counter and was giving a good spook by the clerk who came forward.

"How can I help you?" The man was as pale as death with all the hair on his body almost as white as his skin. The man must of been use to such things to the point of annoyance as he sighed and repeated him. "Can I help you?"

"S-sure." Javier collected himself quickly and remembered the task at hand. "I was wondering if there was any post directed to a Tacitus Kilgore."

The man took his time and went into the back, the sound of shuffling paper the only indicator the man was doing his job. He came back empty handed. "'Fraid not."

There were several names they used, some directed at the individuals in the gang but required that they'd go to the office themselves instead of relying on Strauss. He himself always used J. Edwards but rarely had any reason to go to the nearby office to ask for mail forwarded to it. Javier listed off a few more names, some used in the past and some he knew used by Dutch and Bill, but got the same answer from the clerk who was getting more annoyed.

"Are you trying to play a game friend? Or are you trying to steal some post?" The clerk looked ready to boot him off, which mean Javier had to be quick with an excuse.

"No! I'm just running an errand for a bunch of folk. I get paid a nickel for every letter I grab. Sorry to bother you sir."

Empty handed, he made his way to the back of the building, and was pleased to see some horses hitched up. Draft horses most likely hitched up to rest between stagecoach stops. He had never liked draft horses as mounts, but there was no other choice. Hitching up quickly to the smaller chesnut, he made his way out of town and out to where he knew Emerald Ranch would be. He had never ventured out into Roanoke Ridge, it's landscape foreign, but he knew of the Murfee Brood and their attacks on folk travelling through their land. He kept a close eye on the tree line and moved at a steady pace, ready to race forward at the first sign of trouble.

He had made it to the Post Office right out of the ranch near what must of been midnight. Unlike Van Horn, his terrible appearance would be call for concern, so he let vanity take precedent and made his way through the ranch first. Thankfully there was no one awake. This far out into the grasslands meant a sort of safety, and Javier knew from experience most lowdown criminals wouldn't attempt to rob some ranch so far from society. They'd hit something closer to town rather than travel out so far. This meant no guards. So, he made his way to the large green house and saw to his delight clothes hanging up on the line. He picked off the ones that were the driest, and swapped out his torn bloodstained ones for finer work clothes. They matched well enough that he was satisfied. He then deemed himself worthy enough to go to the station.

Luckily there, he had to only ask for Kilgore before he got his answer.

"Yeah we got a letter for him." The clerk seemed a more friendly fellow than the last, seemingly unbothered by the late hour. "Has instructions on it to travel between Rhodes, Saint-Denis, Emerald Ranch and Van Horn. Says right here 'have this letter stay at these listed locations for three days then send to the next on the list. Someone will come and pick it up, but we the sender are unsure where and when'. Not the wildest sert of instructions I've gotten on a letter let me tell you. I-"

"I need to take it now," Javier interrupted. He was glad of his fate. If it had been in Saint-Denis or Rhodes he would of spent the night riding and worrying about lawmen. His leg was already bothered by the short ride between the two offices enough as it was. "Thank you kindly sir."

He had hopped back up onto his new horse and rode out a little before he opened the letter. 

_'Dear Uncle Tactitus,_

_I do so hope you enjoyed your vacation. Lucky you! Leaving like that. And you always suggested you were too old for travel. I hope you and your cousins enjoyed yourself. Me and your grand nieces have decided to take a trip of our own as the place has become so dreary and godforsaken in your absence. We have gone to visit relatives (from my Daddy's side. You are not yet acquainted with them) in Lakay, a small village just north of Saint Denis._

_It's buggy and muggy but apparently neither is too bad this time of the year. Please come and see us when you can._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Caroline.'_

It was in a handwriting Javier was acquainted with well. Mary-Beth did always have a fancy way of writing, with her flowery words and embellishments. Which had always made it hard for him to decipher. But he understood it well enough. Lakay. He knew exactly where that was. It wasn't exactly a close ride, but he had no other choice. So with a quick click of his tongue he sent his horse onwards down towards the Bayou and hoped his luck would keep up and keep the Night Folk at bay.


	8. Chapter 8

Molly hadn’t stopped shaking since the news had broken. She had been prepared. She had been so prepared. Her valuables had all been stuffed away into a travel bag along with some spare clothes. It had been so little and easy to carry. Enough to be able to ride off into the night with very little hassle.

She had been waiting for them to all come riding back to camp, victorious and rich. She had waited on the balcony like she was some heroine in one of Mary-Beth’s books, waiting for that pretty black and white horse to come riding in, a sure sign that they were ready to leave. But it hadn’t come. No one had come. She had spent most of the afternoon pacing about, feeling a sense of anxiety rise up in her. The little one must have sensed its mother’s fears as she could feel it move and kick around more than it had before. The feeling of movement was still a new development, one which Molly had enjoyed. But now it barely brought her any comfort but heightened her fears.

All that consumed her was the thought of protecting this baby. And this thought became more and more urgent the more trouble they seemed to land into.

It wasn’t long before Abigail came riding into camp on a stolen horse like the devil’s were at her heel. She had recounted to all of them between sobs about what had happened. How she had only gotten free thanks to Hosea putting up enough of a fight to distract and give her a chance.

The camp had been a whirlwind after that. So much had already been packed up for the departure they had planned, but now was the last of the packing. Things were abandoned, obviously, and Molly had realized what this all meant. Javier was more likely than not in deep shit and the chances of him coming back were slimming.

So, when it became obvious no one was going to go for the donation box upstairs, she had run up and taken every cent out of it. Stuffing bills between her combinations and corset then throwing the coins into the bottom of the bag, she ran outside with the rest of them. They had left two carriages, and those who could ride did so as the others stuffed themselves into carriages.

It had been dark when they had left, waiting to make sure there were no patrols on the streets. Charles had arrived just in time, recounting more of what happened. Knowing that most of them were safe and trying to get the Pinkertons off their trail by hopping on a boat with a plan of returning had been a great relief. Which had been washed away quickly when Charles told them the casualties.

Hosea and Lenny. John was arrested but the gallows were waiting for him for sure.

Sadie and Charles hadn’t let them mourn. There was no time for it. So, they had led them through the swamp and to some sort of collection of shacks. It would have been charming if it wasn’t for the skulls that adorned the place.

That had been two weeks ago now, and Molly had spent all of it in an anxious haze. She had wanted to leave camp many times but had been convinced by Abigail to stay.

She had swallowed any sort of distrust she had and turned to her hours after they had settled. She could only trust a mother to understand her plight.

“I figured you two were up to something, but Jesus,” Abigail had said, obviously exasperated. “You could of come to me about this.”

“I tried coming to you once about Dutch and you had told me he wasn’t in love with me and hadn’t let me finish what I wanted to talk about,” Molly huffed, but really couldn't keep up the act. She had sunk under her own words and felt ready to sob. “I only told Javier cause he told me a secret that he couldn’t share either. And I can’t be stupid and pretend I don’t like him. He’s my friend.”

Abigail had nodded, giving her a strange look which had passed before Molly could even ask. “Well, stick by me then. John and I…. Arthur… well let’s just say all three of us had a good talk about the future and I know where I’m headed. And John isn’t staying in that prison forever. Sadie promised me that much. Once he’s free and we have cash in our pockets, we’re going. And we can take you along.”

Molly had nodded to that, not telling her about the cash stored away. Javier’s guitar, something that was seen as a genuine valuable, had been brought along to this new camp without her doing so, and she had taken the cash that had been in the hollow like he had said. She had been shocked by the amount before she remembered that he had been constantly off doing jobs during their time in Rhodes.

It was after this that Molly had begun to make some use of the little journal she kept once again. It had been something that she had kept from Dutch though she doubted he would have had much interest in it. Especially when it had only been a poem book. The journal had been repurposed as a way for Molly to keep track of their escape plan. All the money they had accumulated had been kept in it ($1,020.00 for Javier’s jobs, $350 in his guitar and another $151.72 in the provision box. A neat little $1,521.72 which made Molly weak in the knees even thinking about it. It was insane how much money an outlaw could make if he didn’t spend it). 

Therein it was the cost of a train ticket from Saint-Denis to San Francisco ($136 for first-class, $110 for second-class, $64 for third-class/emigrant) and the cost of land in California ($20.36 per acre) and so on and so forth. She had even written down the things the doctor in Valentine had told her, like ginger root for nausea and the timeline she would be looking at. He had told her based on what Molly had told him she’d be expecting the baby at the end of January. There wasn’t that much time left. Hell, there was very little time left before it would be hard to hide her growing belly. Molly was already tying her corset tighter than she felt was safe to try and mask it but she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer. 

This little journal whose earlier pages contained her poems and then little thoughts had now become her manifesto. And it had steeled her in a way that she hadn’t been before. Javier wasn’t here. He may never be here again. And Molly could no longer sit on her ass, pretending she was too good for it all, and get to work. 

And she was prepared to leave.

So, Molly waited till it was dark, packed up all her things and grabbed one of the spare horses hitched up. She had been given horse riding lessons when she had been young on one of her pa’s farms. It had been a great deal of time since she had ridden, but it all came back to her like it was only yesterday.

Riding at night was a scary ordeal, especially with the story Javier had told her about the final bounty he had taken (the Night Folk had haunted her dreams that night), but she made it out onto the muddy plains soon enough with Saint-Denis twinkling in the distance.

Molly had never been into the city before, though she knew how to survive well enough. She had spent a year in Chicago living hand to mouth, swallowing her pride so she could live and hopefully one day thrive in this country. Molly hadn’t always been a pampered princess refusing work and she scolded herself now for letting herself be that way, but what was done was done. 

She knew well enough she had to be careful and carry an air of confidence if she wanted to avoid any potential threats. Riding towards the train station, Molly could hear music around the streets and the sounds coming from various saloons, which had made her feel safe without her having to drop her guard.

Arriving at the station after wandering around for a while, she found it to be closed and cursed her stupidity. Of course, it’d be close, it was the middle of the night. A sign out front said that the office closed at 12am sharp and would open again at 5am. Only a short period to wait but she refused to wait outside the station for that much time. Autumn was evidently on its way with the chill in the air and she was tired. Not to mention she would be a sitting duck for any brave idiot who’d want to rob her. So she hopped back up onto her borrowed horse, ignored her aching back and rod off to find the first hotel.

It was not a long search. Nearly every street had a saloon and hotel to match. It was a matter of finding one that wasn't so expensive. That wasn’t hard either. The place served as a saloon and hotel, with the room not so crowded compared to the others she had heard as she rode by. A little french owned place if she could tell by the name, Le Lion d'Or. Inside was cozy and she wasted no time making her way up to the counter where a woman was keeping the bar.

“I need a room for the night.” Molly took a few coins out of her bag, including an extra quarter. “And some food if that’s alright.”

“‘Course.” The woman had a slight accent that she could not place. “We have a few rooms available. For how long?”

“Just till the morning.”

The woman nodded and took the money, disappearing into the back. It was at that moment, Molly felt the baby kick, a tiny little thing that was barely a nudge. She could not keep the smile off her face at that; each movement she had felt over the few weeks had been the only source of comfort she had. Though there was no one here she needed to keep this secret from anymore, she refused to touch her belly. The less people knew the better.

The woman had come back with a plate of potatoes and chicken, which Molly had nearly wolfed down, enjoying just how good food was when it wasn’t made by Pearson. She could feel a burning sensation in her chest, something that had become common not long after she felt the first movement. She took her time drinking, hoping it would quench that.

She had made her way up to the room after that, barely taking the time to take off her corset and dropped onto the bed. It was here, with no contraption in the way, that she placed a hand on her growing belly and sighed.

“We’re getting somewhere, little one.” She whispered, smiling as the baby moved almost as a response to her words. “I promise you I’m going to figure this out.”

She had fallen asleep after that, though not deep at all. Molly had gotten up at the first touch of light, and began to prepare. Putting the corset back on, she didn’t lace it as tight as it needed to be. This one she had gotten back in Rhodes on that fateful day she was stopped by the Pinkertons. They had tried to look into the box, thinking she was smuggling something, but she had told them the truth that it was her unmentionables. The corset was one made for maternity wear, lacing done on different panels so she could loosen it the larger she got. Until now, she had kept them completely tight, but she undid them a little to give her a bit of a break, but not enough so to show off her condition.

She had made her way off to the station after that, amazed by how alive the streets were now. Music still filled the air, just barely audible over the noise of the city. Getting to the station was easier than it had been the night before, and found that it was shockingly empty besides a number of guards. It took her a moment to remember that this station, which served also as a trolley station, had been robbed by Dutch not too long ago and that security was probably tight all around the city. She cursed him silently and also felt a pang in her heart at the thought. As much as she was angry at him, her heart could not stop the love she had. The thought of him both comforted and hurt her.

“I’m here for a train ticket,” She told the clerk as she stepped up to the counter. There was a guard right near it, watching her. “I’m told trans-continental tickets are bought here and not at the actual station itself?”

“New protocol and yes ma’am.” The clerk said, taking out some papers with times and numbers on it. “Whereabouts are you looking to head?”

“I want to get to San Francisco with the Union Lines?”

The clerk went down the page and tapped on the row that must have shown her request. “Well, it’ll be around a hundred for the trip if you are looking at second class and that won’t cover the meals. It should take a week of travel. You’ll be looking at a stop in Shreveport, then Sierra Blanca where you will switch trains and then a stop at Phoenix, Fresno and then San Francisco. The stop in Sierra Blanca will be a day stop with the others being for refuelling. Is this alright for you?”

Molly nodded, this was cheaper than her research had shown. All the stops correspond with what she knew and it instilled confidence in her. “Yes, this is perfect. I’d like to pay for the ticket now then-”

“New protocol is in place so that no mass amount of money is stored for long at any station in the city. I’m sure you are aware of the robberies that have taken place.” The clerk explained, giving her an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to pay for the ticket at the actual station itself before you board. The money is almost immediately transported after that. What I am going to do is sign a waiver for you which will state where you want to travel, the cost of the ticket and the class you’ll be sitting in. You’ll give it to the clerk there, who will give you a proper ticket after you pay.”

She couldn’t keep back the sigh. Just another unnecessary step she had to take. But it was something at least. “Thank you for your help. I can’t imagine your job is easy right now.”

The clerk shrugged as he pulled out an adorned paper. “Well, things can't always be easy. All we have to do is grin and bear it.”

He handed her the paper and gave her one last bit of information. “The train only departs once a week at eight o’clock in the evening. So that’ll be the next Monday coming. Be there around half past seven so you can get everything in order. Best of luck to you ma’am.”

There was not much to do between then and now beyond idling around. She knew she would have to grab the money stored outside of Shady Belle at some point, but she has designed that as a tomorrow task. All she wanted to do was take a moment to relax. So, Molly had stayed close to the station for the most part, venturing out only to the bookstore she had spotted the night before to peruse, but not buy. There was no way she was going to spend this money needlessly. She had asked the store owner if it was fine if she could just read, which the man had given her a smile and nod at.

“I get folk in here enough who just want to read something. You’re more than welcome to.”

She had thanked him profusely and found a corner to rest in. The book was interesting, “The Yellow Wallpaper” drew her in almost immediately though the situation that the narrator found herself in, a nervous break after the birth of her child and confinement to an attic room to cure her fatigue. But her mind could not stay on the words itself. With food in her belly, a plan in action and a way out, her mind could finally rest and focus instead now on what she had done.

Molly wasn’t exactly sure why she had told Javier. She had been building up the courage for weeks to tell Dutch, hoping that this happy news would be what would unite them at last and cast his eyes back on her. But the more she saw him slip away the more she realized she was still living in her stupid girlish fantasies. Her father used to reprimand her for them, telling her that the real world was a hard reality and if she ever wanted to be a good wife she had to stay grounded in it. Never did Molly realize how much she’d regret not listening to him.

She had run to this country on a girlish fantasy, not wanting to marry some stranger and wanting adventure. And what a rude awakening she got.

But Javier hadn't condemned her for her stupidity. He had shared something so secret about himself that he lied about it to everyone but her. He had told her love was worth all the idiocy and pain. He had made her believe it. For the weeks that followed, he worked so hard to get money, to plan out their escape. 

And she had run off.

It was the right move. Molly knew this well enough. Her baby came first, but at the same time, she felt like she had betrayed Javier by not waiting. Then again, she knew he’d accept any answer she gave him. He was good like that. It wasn’t a secret Javier had a soft spot for the girls in camp and Molly knew well enough she was counted in that. Why else would he want to run away with her? 

Alongside the guilt for leaving Javier was leaving Dutch. Molly felt this more profusely, feeling a sense of guilt that was going back months. They had been an item for just over a year now, and she had fought hard to keep Dutch by her side. Though she barely understood the things Dutch talked about at times, she tried her hardest to seem interested and to try and parse the words coming out his mouth. She kept her hands soft for him. She kept herself willing even when she didn’t want to be. Molly was everything for Dutch that she could be. But she knew she wasn’t enough. That Molly had to have done something wrong for Dutch to push away as he did. There was no other reason.

And now she was being a coward and running away. She had been thinking about this for a time. Her allying with Javier was an act of betrayal and cowardice. If only she had tried harder. 

She had ended up finishing the book, unnerved by the psychosis the poor narrator had wound down, but feeling a sense of accomplishment at finishing the story. Feeling a pang of hunger, Molly decided to go back to the saloon again, having enjoyed the meal. She would have to get her room again, making it for two nights, which wouldn’t be too terrible. The room had been cheap and the food wasn’t so pricey. If she ate only a hearty breakfast and dinner on top of the room, she’d be barely spending over ten dollars on the whole affair.

She had written the whole thing down in her journal, taking some joy in it. Her father wasn’t the fatherly sort, prioritizing a formal education over paternal affections. He had been better in that before her mother’s death, but really she never had the heart to blame him. Her own education, as the eldest daughter, had been that of learning how to keep a house. And he had personally seen to her knowing bookkeeping and money management.

“I did not come from a rich family like some,” Her father had told her. “I got here in life by good judgment, good money management, good business sense and a helluva lot of luck. I will see to it that you get a good marriage where you will not have to worry, but that does not mean you will be ignorant of your husband’s spending. Be prudent and judicious like your mother. She kept my head out of the clouds and it did a lot for me.”

She had tried to be prudent and judicious for Dutch. She supposed that’s where she went wrong. Not all men were like her father. Much like she was nothing like her mother. She had been named after her and her mother’s mother. Margaret Mary. She had never cared for the name, feeling it was so common to the point of boring. Her father had never approved of any nicknames, but her mother bestowed ‘Molly’ on her and even though that was just as common, there was a specialness in it. The thought of them, while it had often caused her pain and regret, brought her comfort at that moment. She wondered what sort of nickname she would give her own little one. Molly had fallen asleep that night thinking of baby names,

In the morning, with her affairs in order and a room guaranteed for her later that night, Molly had set out to grab the money Javier had left for her. Though she wouldn't want to ride out all that way, she knew from what he had told her that it wasn’t that far from Shady Belle, just out in the woods. And Shady Belle wasn’t a far ride from Saint-Denis. So she hitched up her horse (which had taken time to name Eilish) and rode off in the general direction of Shady.

Eilish was nothing like Boaz. It was something she could not help but notice. Charles had taken the time to round up the horses. Count, Brown Jack, Baylock, Arthur’s which she never knew the name of (the man was constantly bringing back new horses though this one had been around the longest) and of course Boaz. Maggie and Silver Dollar had been set aside with thoughts of selling them just like they had with Ennis, Benny and Ghost; Sean, Mac and Davey’s horses respectively. It had been a sad occasion those three times. She was sure these would hit just as hard. It was like saying goodbye for good.

Molly had been tempted to take Boaz, but a part of her hoping Javier would come back would appreciate her not doing that. She had seen him taking the time to give him peppermints and brush him out, speaking away in Spanish with such a loving tone. She never understood that sort of love a man had for his horse, but she could respect it. That and Boaz was an ass to everyone besides Javier, headbutting anyone who’d tried to pet him. Molly wasn’t sure Boaz would even let her ride him.

Eilish despite what criticisms Molly had for her, got her out to the abandoned church well enough. Travelling past the old Civil War battlement, she made her way out to where Javier had pointed on a map the shack to be. 

“Arthur came across a panther in there,” Javier had told her, tracing out the area with his finger. It was an odd thing to focus on, but Molly was fascinated by his hands. They looked rough, littered with scars and dirt under his fingernails. It had struck her as funny; how a man who would primp and preen himself to the point where he was mocked for it could have such carelessness for his hands. “He killed it of course, but I was super careful wandering about in there. I doubt the satchel it became would come back to life and come at me when I go there, but you never know if another will take its place.”

Molly had taken those words in mind as she ventured off the path and to the derelict house before her. She had been warned by Javier, who had been unnerved by it himself, but the house seemed to have been an old slave catchers holding cell. The door had swung open with nary a creak and she had been greeted to a room with shackles on the walls. Molly had stopped being the religious type a long time ago, but the sight of such a thing with the knowledge of the pain and suffering that had happened, made her cross herself and whisper a quick prayer. 

It was once again that Molly had been thankful that Javier had filled her in almost every step of the way as he made plans and saved money, for she knew exactly where the stash was. The boards in the shackles’ room were loose, and he had pulled up on board in the left-hand corner and had stuffed the money in a leather purse far enough that it wouldn’t be seen right away. From what he had told her, and what he had understood, this area was avoided. With the old battlegrounds rumoured as haunted, the Lemoyne Raiders having an outpost nearby (which she knew had been cleared out by the boys the same afternoon they had settled at Shady), and the Braithwaites place so nearby, this section of Scarlett Meadows was rarely travelled on unless needed.

And sure enough, there it was. She had lifted the board and felt about blinding, hoping that there wasn't anything nasty in there to bite her, before she felt the leather in her hands. Pulling it out and opening it up, Molly gasped at the amount in her hands. She knew most of it had been made on the Lannahechee Riverboat Heist, which Javier had shown her with a sort of amazement. The rest had been made through previous bounties and odd jobs he had begun to pick up. It amazed her how quickly he could scavenge money up, which had made her think how much money did the gang really need before starting life anew. This she had never tried to ask Dutch about. Money questions with him had always been a big no-no.

There was no reason to stick around in the house any longer. A sort of chill was being set in her bones, but not from freezing temperatures. The room spooked her, almost like she wasn’t alone. So quickly, she made her way back out and onto Eilish once more. The ride back was just as uneventful as the first, and Molly was back in Saint-Denis before nightfall. She went back immediately to where she was boarded, giving a quick nod to the woman behind the counter. 

In her room, she had counted out all the money she had. And it came to the amount she had counted before, deducting the cost of the room and meals. She’d have to deduct a further $100.00 and then the cost of meals. The more she thought about the money, however, the worse the guilt from before hit her.

She was only going to California cause Arthur had suggested it. Because Javier had told him. Then Molly’s mind could not get off him.

He had constantly checked up on her despite the suspicion it cast on him, because he genuinely wanted to know if she was alright. He had always given her this soft smile, one she had never seen him give any of the other girls as she would talk. Javier had been good in the sense that he made her feel listened to; that she was sure that anything that she told him he was sure to remember later. It had always been like that with him. Way back in the beginning when Molly had been nothing more than a maidhand, they had chatted away about music, fashion and the odd little thing. They both had had a familiar sort of longing for home though for different reasons. And it had always been so good to talk to him.

It had been one of the things she had missed when things began between her and Dutch. Javier had tried warning her about Dutch’s flirtatious ways, but honestly, the way he had done it had been offensive at best. They barely had talked after that besides a quick ‘good day’ and ‘how are you’ with an impersonal answer to follow. She had realized till then, in that room so far from him, how much she actually liked him. Molly really could of used his company right now, making sense of everything. 

She had gone to bed that night still thinking on that. Dutch had made a good lover in the poetic sense, but Javier had been an actual friend. Hell, Arthur and Abigail had been a better friend to her than Dutch.

The days after that passed by in a slow haze. She had spent most of it knitting away, the shawl almost complete. And with each new line, she was reminded even further of Javier who had gone out of his way to bring her into Valentine for the materials

“If we had you riding out with us, the O’Driscolls wouldn’t stand a chance.” He had teased her. She could never tell him, but Javier’s comments about her needles as weapons had made her feel dangerous every time she pulled them out to work. She had actually thought about stabbing Dutch a few times with them, that comment in the back of her head.

By the final day, Monday morning, the piece was nearly finished. It would require a bit more work, but she still had time. Molly had decided that it’s function would no longer be a shawl, but a baby blanket when the time would come.

Somehow the final hours leading up to when she had to take the train were some of the most suspenseful and longest hours of her life. Even the night she ran away hadn’t felt like this. She had waited in bed, till it was nearly midnight, to sneak out and steal the $75.00 she needed to make a new life. Thirty for the ticket to America and forty to keep her afloat till she found a job. Her heart had been pounding from her bed to the docks, but they had nothing on now. Finally getting away from Saint-Denis held greater connotations than before. It was as if the moment she got on that train, she was finally washing her hands of Dutch. And Javier.

When the hour was finally upon her, and she was making her way to the station, Molly bumped into a familiar face. One she really didn’t want to see.

“Molly?” Uncle looked at her in shock. “You’ve been here?”

A moment’s decision. That’s what drove her to try and push past him and run to the station. Molly couldn’t risk this. Not now. Not when she was so close. But Uncle, despite his protests of a serious illness, was quick and grabbed her.

“Now where do you think you're going?” He had questioned her, barely any malice there, but she knew better. “People were asking after you! You had everyone worried.”

“Don’t you lie to me!” She spat back. She knew full well they’d all be talking shit about her. “Now let go of me!”

His grip fell from her arm to her bag. And as much as she tried, Molly could not hold on. It had slipped out of her hand and she had gone stumbling backwards but did not fall. In the time it took her to recover, Uncle had already peered inside. He had pulled out only a small fraction of the cash, and the look on his face went dark.

“You’re not getting this back, till you come with me.”

* * *

It turns out the letter had been penned by Mary-Beth but completely fabricated by Sadie. That was the first thing Javier had learned when he had arrived at Lakay.

He was the first to arrive, tired and sore from the journey. Everyone had seemed joyful at his return, though concerned for his wellbeing. Uncle had made a comment about how he looked worse than when he had first been dragged back to camps and Tilly had immediately hugged him, crying into his shoulder about how much she missed him.

“We were all worried about you. About Dutch and Arthur-”

“-And Bill and hopefully not Micah,” He had finished her sentence. The quip at Micah had been enough to make her laugh, a pathetic watery thing but a laugh nonetheless.

The second thing he had learned was Molly had disappeared.

“One day she was here and then next she was gone. A horse is missing too. And our donation box smashed to pieces!” Grimshaw had complained as she had ready a small bit of water for Javier to wash himself down with. Bless the woman, she had salvaged some of his things, though all that was left was just two vests, his jacket and thankfully his poncho. He knew it was stupid to fixate on considering everything, but that one piece had been Mexican made and from Chihuahua. A piece of home. It would have been hard to lose it. “I bet you all the money in that chest she was the one who took it. I should have told Mary-Beth to mind her own damn business and send that little traitor on her way when she brought Molly to me. Nothing but trouble-”

“I’m going to stop you there, Miss Grimshaw. “He had interrupted. “But I couldn’t give a single shit about any of it. I just want to stop smelling like a rotting corpse.”

She had clicked her tongue at that but said nothing else.

He had been glad she had taken his advice. If things went wrong, she had to run. And so she did. It didn’t stop the hurt in his chest though. A part of him had wanted Molly to remain stubborn and wait for him. Then again, Javier knew how these things worked. Molly wasn’t in it for Javier like Javier was in it for Molly. She was in it only for her baby, and the safety of it. There was no competition on who she’d choose.

Didn’t mean that he felt bitter over it. But he’d get over it. Not now, but maybe later. At least he had hoped.

Micah had been the second to arrive and to less fanfare than Javier. He had arrived almost a day after Javier, already all scrubbed up and dressed back in his clothes. There was a sort of arrogant gait that had immediately pissed Javier off. He did not forget the apparent comments he had made about him.

He didn’t say how he found out about the new camp beyond some vague comments. Which in turn had pissed Javier off even more, though he didn’t act on it. He was tired and that righteous fury he had before on Guarma was nearly burned out though. Instead, the anger he now could be akin to the coals on a fire, long burned out. Still there, and ready to ignite once more with the right tinder. The question now was what was going to set him off.

Arthur had arrived a few hours after Micah, coughing and looking worse for wear. Unlike the aforementioned rat, Arthur had been forthcoming and quick to talk about how he had received his clue. Shady Belle couldn’t be visited again and most likely would remain unoccupied for some time thanks to Pinkerton patrols. Arthur had been able to sneak away from the one patrol that had nearly caught him off guard.

It was that night that the last of their party joined. Dutch had arrived with the biggest fanfare. Everyone clambered to him, scared and asking for direction. Javier would have joined them if he hadn’t been so bitter. He had watched from afar as Micah tried to draw the attention back on him, with Abigail shooting him down immediately.

He would have complimented her out loud on it if the conversation hadn’t turned to Hosea and Lenny. And if Bill hadn’t bashed his way into the room, demanding and bitching as usual. He had apparently found the camp by asking everyone he could and there was a general sound of exasperation that went around the room, Javier included.

And then Milton’s loud and obnoxious voice had carried through the night declaring them doomed. They all turned to the door, looking at it. He could easily assume everyone felt the same horror and anticipation he felt. Sadie was quick to command some of the girls to the back section with a whisper, while the others drew out their guns. The gunfire rang out clear and consistent, and everyone went ducking for cover.

It was a Gatling gun, it’s mechanical sound barely audible over the heavy rain, but the sound of bullets whizzing by their heads more than present. He had watched as Sadie and Arthur had shimmied their way along the floor to the door in the back, and Javier would have joined in the fight as he felt no fear, but his leg (he cursed it again and again) refused to respond. It cramped and spasmed at the worst possible moment, and all he could do was wait for a cease-fire.

Cease-fire did come, with Milton’s prattling barely heard over the downpour. What Javier was able to get was just the most pretentious, nonsensical bullshit he had ever heard. But with that prattling, he forced his leg to bend to his will and withdrew his gun again. With that, he was not alone as the others used Milton’s distraction to their advantage, gathering close to the door with weapons in hand. Before they could make a move, however, Arthur made himself known. Sadie and him must have made their way to the other shack and their sudden appearance caught the Pinkertons off guard as Arthur mowed most of them down on one cartridge in his repeater. 

In that shock, they busted out of the door and began shooting. 

The Pinkertons scrambled into the trees, and while the others must of focused on those remaining in camp, Javier went after the cowards. Somehow his misadventure with Pancho must have made him more adept at making his way through the bayou, stepping and following the men without any light through the swamp easier than expected. They didn’t go far, and Javier hadn’t even needed to use his gun. 

By the time the others came blazed in with their guns, Javier had dispatched at least five of the fools with his knife alone, the blood sticky on his hands and sweat mingling with rain in his hair. It was disturbing how therapeutic it was to kill them all with his hands alone, but after weeks of uselessness and anger, he couldn’t find it disturbing in the moment. It felt more like justice.

But it was then, as the fire began to die out and the sounds of a retreat were heard that his leg decided to give out. He had realized in his adrenaline rush how much he had pushed his body, and it screamed at him. Javier had sunk down in the mud only for a moment, before trying to push himself further.

Despite how much he wanted to ignore Dutch and his wisdom now, he could not ignore the command of staying strong. Without Molly to leave with now, he had to stick around. And Dutch wouldn’t stand for a weak man in their ranks now.

He had hobbled back to camp, making it back only in time for Dutch to send him back out again. Scare off any scum still loitering about. He could of made a complaint about his leg, about the blood still on his hands, about the sheer bone-deep tiredness in him, but he didn’t. He just wandered back out into the dark with Bill.

“I really hope they didn’t come here because of you,” Javier had said to him, as they made their way through the trees. A reference to Bill’s proclamation at ‘asking everyone’ about where they were. “But I think they would of found us anyways. Hey, at least you sped up the process.”

Bill had only given a grunt at that. More likely than not still sore to be in Javier’s presence. But if he was, it didn’t stop him from asking, “Are you going to make it with that leg? You’re walkin’ all funny.”

Javier’s turn to just grunt. He wasn’t going to complain to Bill of all people about how much it hurt.

At the end of it, there was not a single Pinkerton to be found, and Javier had made them turn back at the first sound of weird animalistic clicking. More likely some sort of bird, but really he wasn’t in the mood to fight any Night Folk tonight.

The rain hadn’t let up in the entire time, which had worked in his favour as it had washed most of the blood from him, but still Javier had made his way to the water as Bill had made his way to the cabin, to wash the last of it still under his fingers.

He had ended up collapsing into the first bed he came across, adrenaline finally wasted away and his body at its utmost limit. By the time he woke up again, the sun was well into the sky and Arthur was gone.

So was Uncle, sent on an errand to pick up supplies in Saint-Denis. If all went well, they’d all meet somewhere in Roanoke Ridge according to Grimshaw who had spoken to Dutch. Till then, they just had to wait for Arthur’s return.

* * *

Molly felt an unmentionable amount of embarrassment as Uncle had basically thrown her up into the wagon. No passerby looked at them twice, though she had hoped someone would stop and make a scene. But then again, she forgot how apathetic a big city could be.

They had ridden up the country as Uncle had said not a word. They were well out of Saint-Denis when she finally talked.

“Where are we going?”

Uncle had never been one for a silent treatment and even with his disdain, he could not keep that up. “Dutch had Arthur and Charles ride out to secure a new camp somewhere called Butcher’s Creek. They left yesterday so they should have it by now. We’re going directly there.”

“You can’t stop me from jumping out of this carriage. I want nothing to do with you lot,” She had threatened, though she wouldn’t. Molly knew a fall would risk a miscarriage. She had seen it with her Auntie Teresa, who had fallen on steps on an icy day and lost the baby she hadn’t even announced yet to anyone but immediate family. That thought was at the forefront of her mind. “The money is a hundred percent mine and it was given to me.”

“I’m sure it was,” Uncle scoffed. Molly wanted to argue more, but she couldn’t say who it was from. That would jeopardize Javier. Her heart ached at the thought of him. If Dutch was alive, then perhaps he was too. So she asked.

“Who came back? Who’s still living.”

Uncle didn’t answer her, though his mouth twitched. She tried again, more specific.

“Is Javier okay? Did they bring him back?”

Uncle just gave a curt nod which sent immediate relief through here. She didn’t pester him anymore.

The ride through Roanoke was uneventful and boring, which meant her mind was solely focused on the confrontation ahead. As much as she felt guilt over leaving Dutch, it didn’t mean she wanted to see him again. He’d be angry. He’d be furious. And if they thought she had stolen all the money from them, then she was well in danger. Molly knew the rules.

She knew if push came to shove she’d have to spill the beans. That she would declare herself pregnant and just hope that Dutch would send her off, too disgusted by her to let her stay. But then the money would be in jeopardy. 

But Javier....

Molly never realized how scared she was to see him again. Would he hate her for leaving him? Would he be relieved? Was he alright?

She could barely pay attention during the last trek of the journey, worrying a hole into her shawl in an attempt to remain calm. She felt as though she was approaching her death.

The camp turned out to be some derelict cave not so far from Annesburg and she had a moment of relief knowing she hadn’t been there for whatever made Dutch think this was the right decision. He had always been so picky about locations and was firmly against cave systems though she had listened in on Hosea and Arthur once tried to argue it would be a good natural defence. There had been something barbaric about it that Dutch didn’t like and Molly had respected him for his standards.

She’d give Uncle credit where credit was due, he didn’t drag her up to where Dutch and Arthur were talking. She could not stop her heart from soaring at seeing him before it went pummeling back down to earth. Still ever a fool. Still so desperate.

And that desperateness somehow stoned her heart and gave her the right amount of anger she needed in this moment. Molly loved this bastard with all her heart and look at what he had done. He had tossed her aside, told her she was a fool and tried to pretend he wasn’t trying to shove her away to make room for Mary-Beth. He had driven her to run away, fearing for the safety of their child who he wouldn’t give a shit for.

Anger didn’t cover what she was finally letting herself feel. It was a righteous fury. And suddenly Molly wasn’t scared anymore.

“So, Dutch,” She yelled out, walking ahead of Uncle and making her way up to him. “Did you miss me?”

She knew full well all the attention was on her. In her peripheral vision, she could see heads turn and people making their way towards what was going to be a show, but she ignored them all.

“You’re back,” He wouldn’t even look her in the eye. “How jolly Miss O’Shea.”

“It’s Molly, you bastard!”

“I found her in Saint-Denis, Dutch.” Uncle piped up. “Found her with this bag. You should take a look in it.”

That anger faltered for a second when she remembered why she had been so scared. The money. Oh god, the money. Still, she steeled herself and tried not to show her nervousness as Uncle passed her travelling bag up to Dutch. It was at that moment she looked around at the camp and saw everyone gathered around. Everyone looked at her with varying levels of annoyance or shock. Abigail with eyes wide open just shaking her head. Bill looked like he could spit at her. Even Charles, stoic and uninterested most days, looked at her with caution.

As she looked back to Dutch and Arthur (who looked concerned, bless him) she saw a figure limp out of the cave near Micah. And her heart stopped.

Javier. He looked terrible. He had always had a skinny look to him, as though he was never eating enough, but his cheekbones were more pronounced than ever and the circles under his eyes were dark. And the look of genuine horror on his face did no favours. And she knew why. He wasn’t angry at her, he was worried about her. He probably had felt some relief that she had gotten away. That his hard work had paid off. 

And that this was a slap in the face.

* * *

Javier felt like he was seeing a ghost. That bitterness at her leaving and the relief he had gotten with it too now gone. Oh, Molly.

Uncle passed the bag up to Dutch, and Javier suddenly knew exactly what the problem was. He watched nervously, eyes darting between Dutch and Molly, trying to think what he could do. Javier couldn’t just stand here and watch this happen. But what was the plan? How could he explain all of this that would allow Dutch to let her leave and him too? Cause that was on the table again. No matter how this went, he was taking her far from here.

But if Molly had taken it from the donation box, that complicated things. She’d be seen as a traitor. And bad things happened to traitors.

Dutch opened the bag and after a heavy second, he sucked in one sharp breath.

“You want to explain this, Miss O’Shea?” He said, taking a stack of bills out of the bag. There was scarcely a mutter at that, but looking around he could see the disgust on their faces.

“The donation box got destroyed Dutch,” Grimshaw spoke up. “I found this out not long after she left.”

  
Now the murmurs started, but Dutch was not pleased with this answer alone. “There’s more in here than there was in the box. Now then-”

“Awful convenient,” Micah interrupted. Dutch shot him a look which caused him to throw his hands up in defence. “Sorry. I was just gonna say that it’s awful convenient that Pinkertons show up, Molly runs away and now she’s got a lot of money.”

He could have killed Micah then and there. Disgust became bits of outrage. As there were proclamations of anger, Arthur looked over his shoulder to Javier, eyebrows raised. He at least knew.

“Is that it then?” Dutch’s voice went low. “You ratted us out?”

Molly looked to him then, eyes meeting and full of terror. Javier had to think fast. He couldn’t let this go on any longer.

How could Molly tell him that Micah was lying? That the money had been given to her by Javier. That he had done it for her sake alone. That he had ignored the donation box and had worked jobs he kept secret as a gift. And how could she explain how. She’d have to come out clean.

“I never would betray you!” She cried out. “I loved you.”

Micah repeated again, “Awful convenient.”

“After everything I gave you and you do this to us?” Dutch nearly growled. She had always hated when his voice would go low like this. It made him terrifying. “How dare you?”

“After everything you took from me too!” Her anger was still there mixed with fear and it made the words pop out of her mouth. And as though a stopper had been pulled from a bottle, she could not hold back the words she had held back for so long. “I gave you everything I had! I gave you all! And you took it all for granted! You told me I was an idiot when you pulled away from me, treated me like I was dirt for being concerned over you! And you expect me to be grateful? I had a good life I did, before I met you! I gave it all up because I love you, you bastard!”

His hand went to his gun.

* * *

Javier watched with horror as Grimshaw walked away towards where her things were packed and she picked up the lone shotgun propped up against the bags. 

“How dare you,” Dutch hissed. Arthur was quick to grab his shoulder and try reasoning with him.

“We don’t have any proof Dutch!” He pleaded. “Don’t go shooting her over something we don’t know.”

“She took from the donation box,” Micah chimed in. “Proof enough she’s a snake.”

“Dutch please, be reasonable. Use your head. That’s what Hosea and you always told me right. Use your head.”

It was amazing how split-second decisions worked. An idea popping into your head and without even really thinking on it, your body moves forwards on instinct. As Arthur kept pleading and Grimshaw kept moving forward with a gun in hand, that is exactly what happened to Javier. A single idea that pushed him forward and to Molly.

He had stepped in front of her, feeling the weight of his gun on in his holster, and knowing exactly what he needed to do.

“I gave her the money,” He said loudly. That was enough to knock Arthur and Dutch off. 

“What?” He asked, not that Dutch didn’t hear him, he just couldn’t believe what he said. The look on his face said that much.

“I gave her the money,” He repeated. “I did all the jobs I could get my hands on. Bounties, robberies, hell I even did some straight jobs. All of it belongs to her because I gave it to her.”

He could feel Molly get close to him, and then there was a tug on his waistcoat. “What are you doing?” She whispered.

“Do I even want to ask why,” If looks could kill, Javier would have dropped dead then. Once, angering Dutch would have been a worry of his, but now it was the thing that turned those coals back into a flame. “This betrayal-”

“Oh, you want to talk about betrayal?” Javier laughed. “I’ll tell you betrayal alright. Wanna know the reason so bad? I’ll tell you. Molly’s pregnant.”

He let that new information simmer. The silence was somehow loud, as Dutch’s face dropped and Arthur looked at him like he was an idiot. But Javier wasn’t done. The split-second decision had to make an appearance now.

“And I’m the daddy by the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> cicadaemon.tumblr


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